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It is dark when you leave the Jazz club.
Signposts have disappeared,
swallowed by shadows...
you must find your way back
by the sound of a party
crowded outside a bar,
masks which gleam
in dark shop windows,
light from a restaurant
which has closed for the night
angular shadows creeping
across marble bridges,
lamplight reflections on water
and a lute player nearby,
and then you see the hotel
at the edge of the canal
and another day is over.
*****
for Diktynna
who loves Venice too.
Signposts have disappeared,
swallowed by shadows...
you must find your way back
by the sound of a party
crowded outside a bar,
masks which gleam
in dark shop windows,
light from a restaurant
which has closed for the night
angular shadows creeping
across marble bridges,
lamplight reflections on water
and a lute player nearby,
and then you see the hotel
at the edge of the canal
and another day is over.
*****
for Diktynna
who loves Venice too.
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Capitolo 25
ReplyDeleteVeronica Franco
(In praise of Fumane, the villa belonging to Count Marcantonio Della Torre, Canon of Verona.)
On one hand, I'd prefer never to have been
in that beautiful place only to leave,
as I did, before I'd properly arrived.
How burdensome a good thing can become,
given that the greater it is, the more grief
is born in us when we must leave it behind:
the pleasure we enjoyed flies quickly away;
and giving no thought to past benefit,
we sadly remember only what we've lost.
And yet on the other hand I wouldn't want
not to have seen such a beautiful dwelling,
gracious and beloved to tranquility.
And, though I have not enjoyed it to the full,
the more I had, the more I'd have cherished it,
and the more leaving it would have brought me regret.
Even so, forming a bittersweet thought,
I return in memory to the infinite delights
that were there revealed to me:
I have that fair site always before my eyes,
and though absent from it in body,
in my mind I still dwell there, never departing.
Within me my soul feels wholly reborn
when such a joyful heaven on earth
presents itself for her contemplation.
My spirit, never quitting this place,
recalls its endless beauties again and again,
vanquished and conquered by the highest pleasure.
And while my eager spirit perceives these delights,
in it's own joy it brings pain to my senses........
Thank you for sharing your wonderful journey with us... xx
wonderful words and images - I could almost be there - sigh...........
ReplyDeleteWhat a joy to look at your words and images of this amazing place.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Alice.
Diktynna x
PS - there's a little something on www.glitteringgreen.blogspot.co.uk for you...!
You make everything better with your words.
ReplyDeleteEven Venice.
I couldn't help it, I just kept thinking Mr M should have packed some powerful torches inside the wellies ;)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful images :D
My word verification, Seville ... maybe that's where you're going next ;)
When you leave the jazz club? I'm sorry. You are too cool to speak to me anymore.
ReplyDelete