FURTHER STANZAS
When, at your gesture, the last shreds of tobacco are extinguished in the glass plate, slowly rising to the ceiling are the coils of smoke at which the bishops and the knights gaze astounded from their chequered board; and other rings are following that are still lighter than those on your fingers. The mirage which sketches towers and bridges in the sky has vanished at the first breeze; the unseen window opens and the smoke is stirred. Down there below, another flock is on the move; a horde of men who do not recognize your incense, of whose chess board you alone compose the pattern. It was my former doubt that even to you the game might be unknown which transpires on the squares and now is cloud outside your doors: not cheaply to be soothed is mortal madness, if your eye’s flash is weak; it asks for other fires beyond the heavy curtains, which the god of chance foments for you when helpful. Today I know what you desire; subdued, the Martinella tolls, terrifying the ivory figurines with the spectral light of snows. But wins the prize of the lonely vigil he who can oppose, before the burning glass that blinds the pawns, your eyes of steel.
Eugenio Montale, “Le Occasioni”, 1939
English translation by Edith Farnsworth |
Will Barnet, Chess Game, 1973. Courtesy of Wichita Art Museum.
No comments:
Post a Comment