Parthenocissus
triscuspidata
Vedo un’altra
pianta nel
giardino buio e
penso debba essere
un salice piangente,
ma quando glielo
chiedo, dice: No,
è un alloro
avvolto in un immenso intrico
d’un rampicante che vi si è
appeso,
un rampicante che non fa
danno all’ospite, pende
simbioticamente,
e basta,
in posa poetica.
Ecco che svanisce
un’altra lugubre illusione,
dico, e lui ride
My transliteration:
Parthenocissus triscuspidata
I see another
plant in the dark garden and
I think it must be
a weeping willow,
but when, to him, I ask this, he says: No,
she is a laurel
bound in an immense maze
of one ivy that, from it, she is hung.
One ivy that does not
harm to the host, but hangs
furtively, and that’s enough
in pose poetics.
Here she disappears
into another mournful illusion,
I
say, and he laughs.
I decided to keep the Latinate title. On the one hand, the term, though in Latin, is easily accessible via the internet. On the other, I found any other translation, or (re)naming, of this plant too lax; the alternate names (for this plant) seem too specifically relative/relational of a culture. I did not want to (pardon the pun) root the title in a specific location. As for the form: I was not strict or faithful to the translated original, though I did attempt to retain some semblance of the form. That being said, the most challenging part, for me, surfaced in the (un)gendered pronouns. Given that I know a little of Egan's personal life (of her husband and how he tends to inhabit her poems) made my pronoun (in)decisions somewhat easier. However, I still struggled with the others: Do I make the laurel a female? The ivy, "it" or male? And why? What would change-- demographically/regionally and socioculturally--if I (re)gender the plants in my transliteration?
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