Sunday Muse | Carlo Betocchi, "Come, Come to Me Now"

Come, Come to Me Now That I'm Old, Not Love
Carlo Betocchi
Translated by Ned Condini

Come, come to me now that I’m old, not love
but you, love’s shadow, dust of mute, humble things,
views of roofs, roads, shutters ajar where lovers
spy their love coming, of convalescing windows,
and weak progressions of sorrowful days,
and umbrous peace that vanishes
the way a duck shot in flight vanishes
into the marsh and drowns and a few feathers
float in the air: I’m reality here
that wavers hopelessly if you don’t come, my love,
love’s shadow, o dear sleep, to give me rest.