Benissimo! Quasi...

Every year my school sponsors a foreign language poetry recitation competition. Participants memorize a poem in the language they are studying and recite it with the most raw emotion they can find in their souls. First place prize? Fame, fortune and a dictionary. Never one to turn down the opportunity to win a dictionary, I entered and recited my poem, "L'arboscello" by Umberto Saba. For round one, I recited the poem in front of my class while a panel of judges watched. Out of about 25 Italian students, I made it to the top three and competed again on Tuesday. Today was the awards ceremony and I did not win first place. Oh well. It was fun anyway. Here's the poem I recited and its translation:

L'Arboscello

Oggi il tempo è di pioggia.
Sembra il giorno una sera,
sembra la primavera un autunno,
ed un gran vento devasta l’arboscello
che sta, è non pare, saldo.
Par tra le piante, un giovanetto,
alto troppo per la sua troppo verde età.
Tu lo guardi, hai pieta.
Forse di tutti quei candidi fiori che la bora gli toglie?
E sono frutta,
sono dolci conserve per l’inverno quei fiori,
che tra l’erbe cadono;
E se ne duole la tua maternità.


Today the weather is all rain.
The day seems like evening,
springtime seems like autumn,
and a strong wind ravages the sapling
which stands, yet seems not, firm.
Among the other plants, it is like a young man,
too tall for his too green age.
You look at him, you have pity.
Perhaps for all those snow-white flowers the north wind deprives him of?
And they are now the fruits,
the sweet preserves for winter, those flowers,
which fall among the herbs;
And the spirit of motherhood in you grieves.