I spent a lazy Sunday morning reading the satirical, anticlerical
Roman sonnets of Giuseppe Gioachino Belli as translated by Harold Norse. Jargon 38 designed and printed by Igal
Roodenko and Jonathan Williams in 1960.
This is the type of thing that I never would have found out about or
experienced but for the nose of Jonathan Williams. He finds all the most fascinating truffles.
Belli was an Italian poet best known for his sonnets in
Romanesco, the dialect of Rome. Norse,
who prior to encountering the sonnet, could not read Italian, immersed himself
in the originals for two months and came up with these slangy translations.
The sonnets have also been translated by Anthony Burgess and William
Carlos Williams. WCW provides a preface for
Norse’s translations and you can see why Belli would appeal to him, given
Williams interest in the American vernacular, along with his anti-establishment
spirit. Here is Norse’s translation of The Mason of the World:
“To see just what there is above the stars
What can we do?” said all the
men who were able.
One said, “So whaddaya need? Ya don’t
need nothin’-
Let’s just go an’ build the Tower of Babel.
C’mon cement, bricks, slaked lime, a trowel . . . .
I’m manager, you’re foreman: all
right, guys,
Let’s buckle down and get to work with a will. . . .”
An’ meanwhile God was laughin’ to split His sides.
Already it was high as the cross on St. Peter’s
When - wot’s this? their tongues
ball up, they stammer
An’ instead of going ahead they go to pieces.
Nobody savvied Italian anymore;
An while one was sayin’: “Pass
the hammer,”
The other handed him a cross-cut saw.
Norse also translates Alberto Moravia’s introduction. Ray Johnson provides the cover and J.J. Lebel
the collage on the title page. Patrons
who made the book possible include Black Mountaineers Willem de Kooning, Mr.
& Mrs. Joseph Fiore, Franz Kline, and Dan Rice.
A delightful read. I am not as thrilled with the book’s design. In fact I do not like the small format Jargon titles as much as the slightly more expansive ones like Some Time or Overland to the Islands, and of course, The Maximus Poems 1-10 and 11-22. Zukofsky’s and Levertov’s books seem so much more an opening of the field than these cramped sonnets. I am not talking about poetic forms but their presentation on the page. Like many small perfect bound titles, the text runs right into the gutter, maybe this is fitting for the likes of Saint Strumpet, but it makes reading difficult. You have to handle the book with kid gloves in order to not to destroy the binding.
JB
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