Shifting brilliancies. Then winter light
In a doorway, and on the stone doorstep 
A beggar shivering in silhouette. 

So the particular judgement might be set: 
Bare wallstead and a cold hearth rained into-- 
Bright puddle where the soul-free cloud-life roams. 

And after the commanded journey, what? 
Nothing magnificent, nothing unknown. 
A gazing out from far away, alone. 

And it is not particular at all, 
Just old truth dawning: there is no next-time-round. 
Unroofed scope. Knowledge-freshening wind. 
---
 

V

Sprandoî che cangia. Dappeu, a luxe d'inverno 
inte 'n ærco de pòrta, e in sciô scæn de prìa
o profî chi trémmoa, de 'n pöveo.

Coscì poeiva ëse emissa a sentensa personale:
o nùo lambrin e un fogoâ freido che ghe ciuveiva drento--
un laghetto ciæo onde l'ànima - nuvia lìbea - a scorratta pe-a vitta.

E dòppo o viægio comandòu, cös'ätro?
Ninte de grande, ninte che no se conosce.
Stâ à 'miâ da lonxi ben, da solo.

E no gh'è pròpio ninte de strannio,
söo che unna vegia veitæ a sponta: no ne tocca un ätro gïo.
Poscibilitæ sensa teito. Vento ch'o refresca a conoscensa.
 

Once, as a child, out in a field of sheep, 
Thomas Hardy pretended to be dead 
And lay down flat among their dainty shins. 

In that sniffed-at, bleated-into, grassy space 
He experimented with infinity. 
His small cool brow was like an anvil waiting 

For sky to make it sing the perfect pitch 
Of his dumb being, and that stir he caused 
In the fleece-hustle was the original 

Of a ripple that would travel eighty years 
Outward from there, to be the same ripple 
Inside him at its last circumference.
 

Unna vòtta, da figgeu, inte 'n campo de pëgoe,
o Thomas Hardy o dïva ch'o l'ëa mòrto
e o s'ëa arreversòu tra quelli schinchi aggraçiæ.

In sce quello zerbo che se gh'annasta, che se ghe bæa,
o l'à fæto a preuva de l'infinïo.
A seu fronte piccinn-a e freida a l'ëa pægia de unn'anchizze

ch'a l'aspëta che o çê o â fasse cantâ in sciô ton milïa
do seu mutto ëse, e o sciäto ch'o l'à fæto
inti sponcialann-a o l'ëa o comenso

de 'nn'ondetta ch'a l'avieiva viægiòu ottant'anni
de feua de lì, p'arrivâ à ëse a mæxima onda
drento de lê, a-o seu ùrtimo çercio.
 

(I misremembered. He went down on all fours, 
Florence Emily says, crossing a ewe-leaze. 
Hardy sought the creatures face to face, 

Their witless eyes and liability 
To panic made him feel less alone, 
Made proleptic sorrow stand a moment 

Over him, perfectly known and sure. 
And then the flock's dismay went swimming on 
Into the blinks and murmurs and deflections 

He'd know at parties in renowned old age 
When sometimes he imagined himself a ghost 
And circulated with that new perspective.) 

(M'arregordava mâ. O l'é anæto addòsso à tutte quattro,
a dixe a Florence Emily, in traversâ un bäro.
O Hardy o çercava e bestie faccia à faccia:

i sò euggi sciòlli e a propenscion 
à inspaximâse ô fävan sentî meno solo,
ghe metteivan addòsso pe'n momento un magon anteçipòu,

ben conosciùo e sensa reisego.
E dappeu a poïa da streuppa a se n'anava de ronsa
co-e sciaccæ d'euggio e i mormoggi e i regïi

ch'o l'avieiva conosciùo a-e feste inte l'avvoxâ etæ rescheussa,
quande de vòtte o se figuava d'ëse unna fantàxima
e o l'anava d'in gïo con quella neuva prospettiva.)
 

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise 
Were all at prayers inside the oratory 
A ship appeared above them in the air. 

The anchor dragged along behind so deep 
It hooked itself into the altar rails 
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill, 

A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope 
And struggled to release it. But in vain. 
'This man can't bear our life here and will drown,' 

The abbot said, 'unless we help him.' So 
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back 
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.
 

L'àncoa a l'à rastellòu avanti e in derrê mai tanto à fondo
ch'a s'é inganciâ inte ringhëe de l'artâ
e dappeu, quande o gròsso scaffo con locciâ o s'é affermòu,

un òmmo da ciusma o l'é chinòu zù, abbrancòu a-a calumma,
e o s'é misso à giamminâ pe desbroggiâla. Ma ninte da fâ.
"St'òmmo chì o no peu comportâ a nòstra vitta chì coscì e a va à finî ch'o nega -

o l'à dïto l'abbòu - se no l'aggiuttemmo niätri." E coscì 
an fæto, lìbeo o barco o l'à sarpòu, e l'òmmo o s'é arrampinòu in derrê,
feua da-o Mäveggioso comm'o l'aiva posciùo conosce.