Monday, August 26, 2019

So disappearing is the destiny of destinies.

Bring me the sunflower, let me plant it
in my field parched by the salt sea wind,
and let it show the blue reflecting sky
the yearning of its yellow face all day.

Dark things tend to brightness,
bodies fade out in a flood of colors,
colors in music. So disappearing is
the destiny of destinies.

Bring me the plant that leads the way
to where blond transparencies
rise, and life as essence turns to haze;
bring me the sunflower crazed with light.

Eugenio Montale
(translated by Jonathan Galassi)
(Erin's sunflower, Massey, Ont., Aug. 2019)

1 comment:

  1. somehow coming upon this (by surprise!) this morning is like running into us, our younger selves. "disappearing is the destiny of destinies" -- such freedom in this i nearly weep, such a return to a true way of being.

    the spiral of the sunflower (i'm feeling spirals everywhere these days; think Lawrence, think van Gogh) moves both inward and outward. regardless of the direction, everything breaks upon the threshold into light.

    and here we are (again) upon a threshold.

    i'm very moved. thank you for this. i imagine your attention to the sunflower in taking the photo and i know love)))