If they have compared you...

If they have compared you 
to the fox it’s for the prodigious 
leap, for the scud of your feet 
which unite and divide, which scuff 
and freshen the gravel (your balcony, 
the streets near the Cottolengo, the field, 
the tree on which shivers my name, 
happy, humble, and defeated)—or perhaps only 
for the luminous wave which you shed 
from your tender almond eyes, 
for your quick astute amazements, 
for the hurt 
of torn feathers which your childlike hand 
can give with one clasp; 
if they have compared you 
to a yellow carnivore, to the treacherous genius 
of the undergrowth (and why not to the unclean 
torpedo fish which jolts with a shock?) 
it is perhaps because the blind did not see 
the wings on your fine shoulder-blades, 
because the blind did not unravel the omen 
on your incandescent brow, the groove 
which I have scratched there in blood, cross chrism 
seduction jetsam promise goodbye 
perdition and salvation; if they did not know 
how to believe you more than weasel or woman, 
with whom can I share my finding, 
where shall I hide the gold I carry, 
where the live coal which shrieks in me when 
departing, you turn on the stairs? 
(Eugenio Montale, La bufera;
Madrigali privati
Translated from the Italian by Alan Marshfield)