I Built a Wall
It’s my fault. Stone by stone
by stone I built a wall
walled myself off from the world.
No way out now.
Even if I wanted to
feel your hand, one
step and I’d crack
my head on that wall.
* * * * *
Dead Branches
Each gust of wind
with growing force
throws down a cascade
of dead branches:
oak, poplar, elm.
No trees around.
It’s in me they fall
dead weight and all.
* * * * *
Always a Cradle
Always, always a cradle
rocking within me.
As the swarm of thoughts swells
and sleep slips away
I sing, “rock-a-bye,”
and right next to you
I fall asleep, too.
* * * * *
Via dei Cappellari
The sun comes out and the street
is a carnival of sheets, the wind
right behind. At first leap
it lands in a pillowcase
and falls asleep.
/ / /
Mario dell’Arco is the pen name of Mario Fagiolo (Rome, 1905-1996). Dell’Arco wrote in romanesco, the dialect of the Roman people, and was perhaps the last great poet in a lineage that includes Giuseppe Gioachino Belli, Trilussa and Crescenzo Del Monte. Dell’Arco’s poetry is epigrammatic in style, intensely personal and abounding in rhyme and wit. His work, translated into many languages, has been largely unavailable in English. I am currently working on a book-length selection of his poetry for an American publisher. — Marc Alan Di Martino
Translations copyright Marc Alan Di Martino, 2021.