237. ‘Non à tanti animali il mar fra l’onde,’ (Sestina)

The sea’s not so many creatures in its waves,

nor there, beyond the circuit of the moon,

were so many stars ever seen at night,

nor do so many birds live in the woods,

nor so many grasses on the field or bank,

as I have thoughts in my heart each evening.

From day to day I wish my final evening

would sever my living earth from the waves,

and let me fall asleep on some green bank,

for no man has ever suffered under the moon,

such troubles as I have: and the woods

know, that I go searching day and night.

I have never had one tranquil night,

but go along sighing morning and evening,

since Love made me a citizen of the woods.

Before I rest, the sea will be free of waves,

and the sun illuminated by the moon,

and flowers will die in April on every bank.

Consumed with grief I go from bank to bank

thoughtful all day, then weep through the night:

and may have no more rest than has the moon.

As soon as I see the darkness of evening,

my breast sighs, and from my eyes come waves

to drench the grass, and bow down the woods.

Cities are hostile to my thoughts, the woods

are friendly: thoughts that along this high bank

I pour out to the murmuring of the waves,

through the sweet silence of the night:

so that I wait through the day for evening,

when the sun departs and makes way for the moon.

Ah if, like Endymion, lover of the moon,

I was asleep somewhere in the green woods,

and she, who before vespers brings me evening,

came with the moon and Love to that bank,

to remain alone there through a single night:

and daylight and sun stayed beneath the waves!

Over harsh waves, by the light of the moon,

song, born at night among the deepest woods,

you’ll see the greenest bank tomorrow evening.