A child
A child,
Curious and innocent,
Slips from his Nurse, and rejoicing
Loses himself in the Fair.
Thro' the jostle and din
Wandering, he revels,
Dreaming, desiring, possessing;
Till, of a sudden
Tired and afraid, he beholds
The sordid assemblage
Just as it is; and he runs
With a sob to his Nurse
(Lighting at last on him),
And in her motherly bosom
Cries him to sleep.
Thus thro' the World,
Seeing and feeling and knowing,
Goes Man: till at last,
Tired of experience, he turns
To the friendly and comforting breast
Of the old nurse, Death.
Curious and innocent,
Slips from his Nurse, and rejoicing
Loses himself in the Fair.
Thro' the jostle and din
Wandering, he revels,
Dreaming, desiring, possessing;
Till, of a sudden
Tired and afraid, he beholds
The sordid assemblage
Just as it is; and he runs
With a sob to his Nurse
(Lighting at last on him),
And in her motherly bosom
Cries him to sleep.
Thus thro' the World,
Seeing and feeling and knowing,
Goes Man: till at last,
Tired of experience, he turns
To the friendly and comforting breast
Of the old nurse, Death.
William Ernest Henley
Un bambino
Un bambino,
curioso, innocente,
si perde nel parco-
giochi, sfuggito alla balia,
felice
Vagando
tra spintoni e frastuono,
fa festa,
e sogna, desidera, ottiene,
finché, all’improvviso
stanco e impaurito,
vede il groviglio di cose e persone
così come sono; e corre
piangendo alla balia
che infine lo trova,
e sul seno materno di lei
piange, sfinendosi, fino a dormire.
Così per il mondo va l’uomo:
e vede, sente, conosce.
Alla fine, sfiancato
dalle molte esperienze, si volge
al seno accogliente
della sua vecchia balia,
la Morte.
(Traduzione di Anna Rita Margio e Nicola Sguera)
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