The Racial Laws, a poem by Giorgio Bassani (translated by Jamie McKendrick)
The magnolia right in the middle
of our Ferrara house’s garden is the very
same that reappears in almost every
book of mine
We planted it in ’39
ceremoniously
just a few months after
the Racial Laws were brought to bear
it was a solemn-comical affair all of us
fairly light-hearted God permitting despite
that irksome immemorial appendix
Judaism
Walled-in by four walls forewarned
soon enough it grew
black luminous intrusive
pointing firmly up towards the imminent
sky
full day
and night with grey
sparrows dusky blackbirds
unflaggingly scanned from below by pregnant
cats and by my
mother –
she too in tireless vigil there behind
the windowsill forever brimming
with her crumbs
Straight as a sword from its base to its tip
now it overtops the neighbouring roofs
beholding every bit of the city and the infinite
green space that circles it
but now somehow stumped I can guess
how it feels frail-tipped unsure
of a stretch up there in the heights a narrow space
in the sun
like someone at a loss
after a long journey
as to which road to take or
what to do
Image: Oscar Ghiglia (1876-1945), Signora allo specchio , ca. 1910
