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Thanks to a residency at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at LMU München, where I tutor composition and edit a poetry weekly, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.



by Pietro Bembo,
translated by Lorna de’ Lucchi

Thou too then, Brother, in the tide of spring 
Dying, hast left me solitary here 
Whence life, before so bright and glad a thing, 
Is shadowed over with dismay and fear; 
Justice it would have been and passionate 
Desire of mine that hitherwards the dart 
Firstly had sped, that as I was not late 
In coming, so I might betimes depart. 
   Then I would not have known such deep despair, 
Nor seen myself’s best portion borne away, 
Nor been subjected to such misery; 
But now, since I before thee might not fare, 
God grant, Who loveth equity, I may 
Be liberated soon and follow thee.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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