Leave-taking
A sonnet found hanging from an Ilex, and
inscribed “The Baron Cosimo Piovasco di
Rondò to Viola, Duchess Tolemaico”
Translated by Phillip Whidden
A tree fell in the forest of my heart
But made numb silence since you were away.
The moment of that final crushing sway
Was prophesied by nesting birds whose part
In all this soundless fury was to die
Along with oval clutches of warmed hope
And brooding lyricism. My limbs grope
Like skyward roots, recalling how our high,
Resilient trunks and crowns (once side by side
In harsh or friendly winds) are sounding now
With bark-clamped moans; but, then, with humming bough
And breezy happiness we could not hide.
Your leaving, though, scarred like a lightning ball;
Sad seeds were planted in that deafened fall.