marco martinelli translated by thomas haskell simpson · 2020. 3. 5. · after years of exile. in...

82 PAJ 124 (2020), pp. 82–103. © 2020 Thomas Haskell Simpson https://doi.org/10.1162/pajj_a_00514

Love’s Faithfulpolyptych in Seven Panels for Dante Alighieri

Marco MartinelliTranslated by Thomas Haskell Simpson

first panel

THE FOG SPEAKS, ONE NIGHT IN 1321

I am everywhereThis morning

everywhere

In the fieldsover the rivercloaking the mountainsway up there

I’m everywherethis morning

I’m here tooin the writer’s room

They left the window open

the banished poetthe exiled poetEGO SCRIPTORthe writeris therein his bed

MARTINELLI / Love’s Faithful 83

in his rose-colored room

fever flays himlikea lynx

death bites downenters his bonesit penetrates, cracks openhis skull-box

like memewho’s everywherethis morning

he is dying the writerhis mind befogged

Does he pray?Does he recite his Creed?Does he see Eternity?Or does he doubtsunk in remorselike a wounded stag?Or for a momenta single momentis he seized by fearand sees nothing but Darknessthe Darkness of the end?

beforehe’d seen EternityParadisea thread of smokepale blue incensehe had written itblack on whitenot far from herein the pine woods

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on the shore at Classeand now those 13 cantithose last 13 cantiare hidden in his little roombehind that rush-woven matnailed to the wallin that forgottencubbyholedug into the wallyesit’s ParadiseParadiseit’s inside therewalled in

he is dying the writerthe little wormafter years of exile.In Florence they want him dead!Still!Never pardoned him!A bonfirein the public squareoh surethey can’t waitset fire to him!like a sorcerera thieving graftera corrupt politician!Stepmother Florence!Whorehouse and gallows!

They forgot to closethe windowand I’m hereand theyare all therethe lords of the citystudents and friendsthey hosted him


the refugeeopened a School for himwhere the refugee taughtDE VULGARI ELOQUENTIAand then they sent him toVeniceas ambassadorto avert a war

the road’s a riverof filthy watera swampof malariamalariathat melts your throat

and now they’re all therethose romagnoliwatchingtheir distinguished guest shiversplutteringravingAlabaster RavennaRavenna of the tombsRavenna felix

Twenty years in flightover the mountainsSarzana Forlì Bologna VeronaArezzo Treviso Padova Lucca at the foot of the Luni mountainsto Paris, perhapsin the Vico de li Stramiday and nightice and heatno bread in his pocketno homelandstray dog dayslife’s fangs gouging himlike a vicious curand now it sees him swoon

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in that little roomthe exiled poetshit-smearedthe writerthrown back and forthon the shifting, roilingsea.

second panel

THE DEMON CRIES OUT FROM THE DITCH

Cast your eyes below!At the river of boiling blood!At the great ditch of Phlegethon!In which boilthose whose violence drove madthe lives of others!Oh mad, mad, madCruel bestiality!Oh youtyrantsoppressorsboilingtherewith piercing screamsstench, fecesthe final black pitof the universe!Profiteers!Profiteers!Guzzling shit-sweetened bloodand behind, the financiersthe 500 familiesno longerwalled in their villasno longerholed-up in their gardensno longerbarricaded in their partiesI see them therein a place mute of light


upside down in the mire!And the merchants of deathdoing businessdragging downthe disemboweled peoples andidiot Christs in the trenchesnailedon the bridge of yearsbetween scorn and mockerypure, mute Christswith cut-out tonguesscattered amidst trash and mudand sheet-metalwith the stink of piss andanger and fear and desolation andtrade in human flesh andcries of mothers in the nightunheard andthe armsdealersarmsdealers on a cruisearmsdealers out for a sailarmsdealers sipping drinkstaking a posefor the next photoamusing themselvesmaking five-year planson the death of othersarmsdealers double-breastedarmsdealers hinting a smilearmsdealers with faceliftsarmsdealers sneeringbounteous in advice and sermonsarmsdealers aiming higharmsdealers shining the shoesof the bankersreaching agreementwith heads of statearmsdealers foxesarmsdealers hyenasarmsdealers wolvespresiding over the threshing floor

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that makes them so viciousdown there in the pit belowupside-downand the International Organizationsthose tooin the ditchthe International Organizationsbounteous with cashmountains of cashto pay salaries for functionariesto fatten their functionariesthose plump functionary belliesthose zealous functionariespunching their timecardconcernedabout world hungerwhile all aroundthe bombsmake the world a sarcophagus.Wars!Wars!Wars everywhere!Started by the insipidwho wouldn’t know howto build a chicken coop!

third panel

THE CRUCIFIED ASS REMEMBERS

I was the onememeI was the onemewho carried him in the valleysacross the riversI was the one

look at medonkey skin and boneme


I carried himalready sickah, the malariabatters the bones

meI was the oneI was the onemeI carried him on my backthe writermy cross-shaped back

what do you thinkit’s all my lifethat Imecarry these Christianson my backbig and smalllords and paupersblind, lame and bentbat-shit crazy

my backhas carried the world

and Imefeel it like a woundI wear the mark of the crosson my backI just can’t see itI just can’t see itI just can’t see it

butbutbutif I look around

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sure I see it, that crossI see it everywhere

the worldis cross-shapedit even reaches the sky

menjust throw out their armsthey form a cross

the treesstanding still, perfumedpray with their branchesthey’re cross-shaped

lower your eyes!Don’t you see?and all those animalseven the littlestare cross-shaped

look up!look at the birds in the skyeagles, buzzards, swallowsthrowing wide their wingsmake a cross

and when mothers and fathersthrow their babiesin the waterto keep from drowningthe babies open their arms in a cross

the cross holds tight in its fistall the world’s secretsshe alone stands stillwhile everything wheels around!

they’ve piled the cross on methey’ve called me ass


they’ve beaten methey’ve flayed me with thornsthey’ve spit in my facethey’ve mocked meIdiot!Idiot!

What do you understand?I couldn’t care less!The cross stands firmAnd the world wheels around.

Without the crossthere wouldn’t be the world!

fourth panel

THE VITUPERATIVE DEVIL CRACKS JOKES

Chastise, go on, chastiseCastigate, come on, castigateWhy do human people scold?Why do human people deprecate?Rebuke, go on, rebukeCondemn, come on, condemnSquabble among yourselvesTear out his hairTear his guts outTear out his tongueWhy do human people disparage?Why do human people vilify?For credit, money, inheritanceAccounts that don’t add upNever equal sharesBrothers split among themselvesIt’s mine!No it’s mine!Crush his skullCrush his skulltill checks come outtill checks come outtill checks come out

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Love’s faithful, 2018. Photo: Enrico Fedrigoli.


Execrate, go on, execrateDefame, come on, defameWhy do human people blame?Why do human people accuse?Some accumulate and some scatterSome keep and some wasteSome screw you and some screw themselvesSome clutch the cashboxSome destroy the family fortuneSome go to ruin at the slotsAll the gold under the moonExalted wealth and the Earth’s kingdomsAre subject to the whims of FortuneShe suddenly opens the doorand slams it slams it slams it shut!

Reprimand, go on, reprimandReproach, come on, reproachThey pile up gold and silverLabor, yes, labor in vainLabor in vainAnd then?Can’t sleep at nightcan’t sleep at night!Labor in vainLabor in vainAnd leave it all to othersall of it to othersLabor in vainLabor in vainNothing but wind in darknessThey arrive in the fogThey depart in the shadowsIf wealth growsSo growThose who devour itThink on it, no?Obscure life lost!Obscure life lost!Obscure life lost!

94 PAJ 124

fifth panel

ITALY KICKS ITSELF

Firstthere were Guelfs and GhibellinesGuelfs against GhibellinesThen the Guelfs split among themselvesWhites against BlacksWhite GuelfsBlack Guelfsthen the Whites split among themselveswithin themselvesWhites against Whites against Whites

is this what politics is?

Violence and clashing among brotherseven ones on the same sidesplit & split & splituntil nothing’s leftno side leftcut in half even in oneselfmangledguts hanging outand never worried if because of this war of theirsthey drove their country to ruin robbed their children of their future

is this what politics is?

and there’s no side leftbecause there’s no Heavenway up thereSUPERIORa Heaven superior to you & mea Heaven the birds can’t reacheven with a thousand wingsa Heaven not for astronautsa Heaven inside you and me


to obey, gladlya Heaven of Lightthat no shadowno rancorno jealously can scratch

Ah servant Italyabode of paincrippled Italyyou never changeItaly disunitedItaly laceratedItaly miredItaly strangledItaly explodedfalseevil weedItaly adrifta ship of foolsItaly of the paparazzi

Italy on light dutyItaly for hireItaly bows its headItaly unluckyItaly humiliatedItaly always on its kneesthat enjoys serving the powerfulItaly, its eye corruptedItaly of the little menwho love to obeyneck in the yokeof this monstrous viceItaly I have a family to look afterItaly I didn’t knowItaly I don’t think soI confessthat I wasn’t thereItaly there’s always an excuseItaly it’s always the othersItaly the fetid

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Italy losing sleepItaly we’re the sly onesItaly of the favoredItaly of the bodyguardsItaly that, sirI’m here to grovel for youI’m your faithful servantI even piss on commandbut I’d like from you, if I maya ten-floor villa with poola caramel-red Ferrarimy own private mall

One is born a manbut becomes a brigand

Italy of chit-chatItaly of the cafésItaly of the new mediaItaly do-it-yourselfItaly the chirping tonguesof facile opinionsfree of chargeItaly of consultationsItaly of insultsbestowed on the evil & the goodhailstorms on the webwithout distinctionItaly of Italy’s plaguesItaly of the asswipessacrilegious Italyshameless Italywinking Italyat their elegant dinners andfine salonsItaly that sells its childrenItaly imperturbableItaly of the bagmenItaly of the front manItaly of appearancesItaly of underneath it all


Italy of the schemeItaly that plays the Lotto

Italy can’t breathestumbles, falls, gets ups againin the poisoned airdrowned in acidentombed in cementItaly of pestilence, fevers, buboesItaly spitting bloodItaly of heart attackswho die on the joblook around a littlecome on, it’s a fact of lifethree die per day

Italy of murdersItaly of misdeedsItaly of massacresof unpunished crimesItaly still mafiosoItaly terrifyingin the south, the north, and elsewhereup in the mountains and down on the plainsItaly armedarmed to the teethItaly prostituteand never with the losersItaly always repentantalwaysand it’s never changedItaly of the fake honestItaly of the pretextsItaly of the credit transfersItaly of the arrestsItaly of the contextsthat this is a different thingthat the rule applies to the othersbut doesn’t count for usItaly the boringunchanged for centuries

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Italy of the miraclesof the fake miracle workersof the great magiciansScrofulous Italyof the wizard dictatorsItaly on parade

Italy through clamped teethItaly I’m up to here with itItaly the washerwomanItaly are you all there?Italy this is costing meItaly you foolish twitItaly aflutterItaly disheveledItaly petulantmust be a freeloaderItaly snivelingItaly I ain’t doing nothingItaly coconut vendorItaly I wipe my ass with itItaly in disarraylike a witchItaly ignoramusItaly presumptuousblind as a moleEnvious Italy!

sixth panel

ANTONIA, THE POET’S DAUGHTER

FatherFather I’m hereCan you hear me?

Never mind, gentlemenhe doesn’t recognize usthe fever devastates himmy old dad is ravingraving like when youngwhen shaken by love


overcome by bewildermenthe closed his eyesfell to the groundlike struck by lightningand fell into deliriumlike mad people do.

Father, we’re here, can you see us?It’s Antonia . . .your Antoniaand Iacopo and Pietroand mamma . . .gentlemendon’t huddle over him soand what’s this fog in the roomkindly close the windows pleaselet me be the one to hold his handthe fever is shaking him andhe hasn’t eaten for daysfeel his bonesthey’re scorching hot.

When younghe made songshe and poets like himfedeli d’Amorethey made songs that took them overthey fell on the groundthunderstruckall intoxicatedall made by Lovehis friend Guidowho died of malaria tooin Sarzanaand they would ask peoplecan’t you see Love?Can’t you see him?How can’t you see him?powerful LoveLord of fearful aspectand yet wondrous

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and yet happy, cheerfulwho holds our heart in his handsand sets fire to it?Can’t you see Lovenaked, draped in a bloody shroud? Can’t you see Lovewho brings on vertigowho sings our namelike on the first day ofcreation?How can you not see him?You can’t see Loveyou can’t seeyou can’t feelthat you’re made by Love?That Love makes you every momentdawn & dusk &without this makingyou wouldn’t be here, singing?Can’t you feel Lovethat strikes your headlike thunderthat cuts your legs out from under youmakes you trembleat the sight of the Belovedwhen the Beloved comes to you?Can’t you see Loveeternal Springthat drives the foals to embracethat makes them stamp their feet in the meadowsstronger than deathstronger than all your feartormentabyss?Can’t you see Lovethe First and Lastthe Dead and the Resurrectedwhose brow is snowyeyes of firefeet shining goldwhose hands capture the stars?


Can’t you read Lovein the great book of the universebinding All Things togetherholding All Things upeven the anteven the rhinoceros and the whaleeven the cloud, the mountainseven the ugliest visageeven the body so scornedthatwhen it passespeople cover their face?

seventh panel

AN ENDING THAT ISN’T AN ENDING

at a certainpointtowards the end?

fogashen fogfog of ashes

the pointthe little point, memeDante?

I, Dante?What have I given?

Is the Comedytoo small a thing for you?

The refugeeproud of his sacred poemdoesn’t know nowterror seizes himnow he sees the ditchand the worms

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that shrieknow he sees his fleshless skullnow for a momentonly a momentdoubtdevours himhe plunges

into the fog

and he remembers his teacherThomas Aquinaswho, dying,looked at his Summa and said

MIHI VIDETUR UT PALEA

it seems like so much straw

Dante tooat that pointwhen the dark woodturns up againpunctuallyto swallow himto Dante too it seemshis poem is nothing but strawto be scattered by Time

tickticktick

the clock ticks and fades out

tickticktick


and at that pointthe refugee feels himself fallrolling downdowndown

at that pointthat very pointthe child appears to himdressed in the noblest colorshumble & honestsanguinethat same glorious little girlwho had appeared to himat the beginning of her ninth year

APPARUIT IAM BEATITUDO VESTRA

That’s how it all begantwo children looking at each otheralong the road

and the spirit of life in himbegan trembling so hardhis pulsehis breathhis wild hearta fire in his hearthe recognized his Lordrecognized himself in HimI, DanteI, DanteA circle inside a circle inside a circleand LightLight

marco martinelli translated by thomas haskell simpson · 2020. 3. 5. · after years of exile. in...

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