by Alex Valente
Original Italian by Ada Negri (1870-1945), ‘Non è ancora primavera’
Spring? It’s still early February
and there is plenty of snow to fall, still:
still plenty of cold to bite.
And yet, now that I consider it
and take a better look around,
the announcement of Spring is not just
on the mouth of the flower seller
left on the corner of the road.
Maybe in the clouds, maybe in the wind;
or in the grass of the gardens with their
gate onto the pavement: or between
the cracks in the rocks: but, in any case, it’s there.
It plays hide-and-seek with me: where
it lies I cannot tell nor where
it appears to burrow away again; it doesn’t say,
it promises, and then flees.
Featured image: Cadi Cliff