Afloat!

Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224

Brutus:

“We at the height are ready to decline.

There is a tide in the affairs of men.

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.”

This philosophy seems wise; it contains a certain beauty as well, suggesting that while we do not have total control over our lives, we do have a responsibility to take what few measures we can to live nobly and honorably.

Sometimes if one misses this chance, the “voyage” that one’s life comprises will remain forever confined to the shallows, and one will never experience anything more glorious than the mundane events in this narrow little bay.

And sometimes if we do not “take the current” now, when the time is right, we will lose our “ventures,” or opportunities.

Human beings must be shrewd enough to recognize when fate offers them an opportunity and bold enough to take advantage of it.

The passage elegantly formulates a complex conception of the interplay between fate and free will in human life. Throughout the play, the reader must frequently contemplate the forces of fate versus free will and ponder whether characters might be able to prevent tragedy if they could only understand and heed the many omens that they encounter. This musing brings up further questions, such as whether one can achieve success through virtue, ambition, courage, and commitment or whether one is simply fated to succeed or fail, with no ability to affect this destiny.

Ed è subito sera

Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.



Everyone stands alone at the heart of the Earth
transfixed by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is evening.

Uomo del mio tempo - War

Sei ancora quello della pietra e della fionda,
Uomo del mio tempo. Eri nella carlinga,
Con le ali maligne, le meridiane di morte,
-T'ho visto-dentro il carro di fuoco, alle forche,
Alle ruote di tortura. T'ho visto: eri tu,
Con la tua scienza esatta persuasa allo sterminio,
Senza amore, senza Cristo. Hai ucciso ancora,
Come sempre, come uccisero i padri, come uccisero
Gli animali che ti videro per la prima volta.
E questo sangue odora come nel giorno
Quando il fratello disse all'altro fratello:
"Andiamo ai campi." E quell'eco fredda, tenace,
È giunta fino a te, dentro la tua giornata.
Dimenticate, o figli, le nuvole di sangue
Salite dalla terra, dimenticate i padri:
Le loro tombe affondano nella cenere,
Gli uccelli neri, il vento, coprono il loro cuore.

You are still the one with the stone and the sling,
Man of my time. You were in the cockpit,
With the malevolent wings, the meridians of death,
-I have seen you - in the chariot of fire, at the gallows,
At the wheels of torture. I have seen you: it was you,
With your exact science set on extermination,
Without love, without Christ. You have killed again,
As always, as your fathers killed,
as the animals killed that saw you for the first time.
And this blood smells as on the day
When one brother told the other brother:
"Let us go into the fields." And that echo, chill, tenacious,
Has reached down to you, within your day.
Forgot, O sons, the clouds of blood
Risen from the earth, forget your fathers:
Their tombs sink down in ashes,
Black birds, the wind, cover their heart.

...

Ecco mormorar l'onde

Ecco mormorar l'onde,
E tremolar le fronde
A l'aura mattutina, e gli arboscelli,
E sovra i verdi rami i vaghi augelli
Cantar soavemente,
E rider l'Oriente;
Ecco già l'alba appare,
E si specchia nel mare,
E rasserena il cielo,
E le campagne imperla il dolce gelo,
E gli alti monti indora:
O bella e vaga Aurora,
L'aura è tua messaggera, e tu de l'aura
Ch'ogni arso cor ristaura.

Now the waves murmur
And the boughs and the shrubs tremble
in the morning breeze,
And on the green branches the pleasant birds
Sing softly
And the east smiles;
Now dawn already appears
And mirrors herself in the sea,
And makes the sky serene,
And the gentle frost impearls the fields
And gilds the high mountains:
O beautiful and gracious Aurora,
The breeze is your messenger, and you the breeze's
Which revives each burnt-out heart.

All'anima mia - Soul

Dell'inesausta tua miseria godi.
Tanto ti valga, anima mia, sapere;
sì che il tuo male, null'altro, ti giovi.

O forse avventurato è chi s'inganna?
né a se stesso scoprirsi ha in suo potere,
né mai la sua sentenza lo condanna?

Magnanima sei pure, anima nostra;
ma per quali non tuoi casi t'esalti,
sì che un bacio mentito indi ti prostra.

A me la mia miseria è un chiaro giorno
d'estate, quand'ogni aspetto dagli alti
luoghi discopro in ogni suo contomo.

Nulla m'è occulto; tutto è sì vicino
dove l'occhio o il pensiero mi conduce.
Triste ma sollegiato è il mio cammino;

e tutto in esso, fino l'ombra, è in luce.

Umberto Saba

You delight in your unending misery.
Such, my soul, should be the worth of knowledge,
that your suffering alone should do you good.

Or is the self-deceived the lucky one?
He who cannot ever know himself
or the sentence of his condemnation?

Still, my soul, you are magnaminous;
yet how you thrill to phantom opportunities,
and so are brought down by a faithless kiss.

To me my misery is a bright summer
day, where from high up I can make out
every facet, every detail of the world below.

Nothing is obscure to me; it's all right there,
wherever my eye or my mind leads me.
My road is sad but brightened by the sun;

and everything on it, even shadow, is in light.

L’Infinito - Infinity

Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
E questa siepe, che da tanta parte
Dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
Spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
Silenzi, e profondissima quiete
Io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
Infinito silenzio a questa voce
Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,
E le morte stagioni, e la presente
E viva, e il suon di lei. Cosi tra questa
Immensita s’annega il pensier mio:
E il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare.

Giacomo Leopardi



Always dear to me was this lonely hill,
And this hedge, which from me so great a part
Of the farthest horizon excludes the gaze.
But as I sit and watch, I invent in my mind
endless spaces beyond, and superhuman
silences, and profoundest quiet;
wherefore my heart
almost loses itself in fear. And as I hear the wind
rustle through these plants, I compare
that infinite silence to this voice:
and I recall to mind eternity,
And the dead seasons, and the one present
And alive, and the sound of it. So in this
Immensity my thinking drowns:
And to shipwreck is sweet for me in this sea.

Lo v'amo sol perche

Io v'amo sol perchè voi siete bella,
e perchè vuol mia stella,
non ch'io speri da voi, dolce mio bene,
altro che pene.

E se talor gli occhi miei mostrate
aver qualche pietate,
io non spero da voi del pianger tanto
altro che pianto.

Nè, perchè udite i miei sospiri ardenti
che per voi sprago a i venti,
altro spera da voi questo mio core
se non dolore.

Lasciate pur ch'io v'ami e ch'io vi miri
e che per voi sospiri,
chè pene pianto e doglia è sol mercede
de la mia fede.



I love you simply because you are fair,
and my stars desire it
not that I hope for anything from you,
my sweet life, except misery.

And if you decide to show pity
sometimes for my eyes,
I do not hope for anything but
weeping for so much sadness.

Nor, because you hear my burning sighs,
that for you I allow the winds to hear,
does this heart of mine hope for
anything from you but sorrow.

Let me still love you and look on you
and sigh for you, since
sadness, weeping and sorrow are
the only rewards I have for my love.