Amanda Gorman, text and translation of a poem that has become a cult

Joe Biden he fell in love with her one day in Congress, when, during a recital, he heard her speak. Amanda Gorman, young African American poet, reminded him of himself: the past as a child marked by a speech impediment, the healthy ambition of those who want to be the architect of their own destiny. So, once he was elected president of the United States of America, he decided to seek her out.

Amanda Gorman, in her yellow coat, climbed Capitol Hill and, sixth in the history of her country, accompanied Biden’s oath with a poem.

In writing it, he thought about it for himself. First, slowly. Then, shaken by the violence of the Trumpians. The Hill We Climb, completed on the night of the siege of Capitol Hill, moved America, which in the “skinny girl, raised by a single mother”, saw the legacy of Martin Luther King. “We will rebuild, we will reconcile and we will recover,” said Gorman solemnly, who told the New York Times she wanted to run for the presidency. Not tomorrow, but in 2036.

The twenty-two year old, Harvard graduate and certified National Youth Poet Laureate, showed a rare solidity, a clarity of thought with which she obtained the applause of Barack and Michelle Obama, ready to support her in her political dream. A dream that, today, goes hand in hand with the literary career. After publishing the collection The one for whom food is not enough, Gorman has a children’s book coming out, Change Signs.

THE TEXT OF THE POETRY, IN ITS ORIGINAL VERSION

When day comes, we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry, a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine,
but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.
That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.
It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
This effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth, in this faith, we trust,
for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption.
We feared it at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour,
but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked, ‘How could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?’ now we assert, ‘How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?’

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be:
A country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.
We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain:
If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change, our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.
With every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the golden hills of the west.
We will rise from the wind-swept north-east where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
In every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country,
our people, diverse and beautiful, will emerge, battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

THE TEXT OF THE POETRY, TRANSLATED IN ITALIAN

When the day comes, we ask ourselves where can we find a light in this endless shadow?
The loss we carry on our shoulders is a sea that we must wade through.
We have challenged the belly of the beast.
We have learned that stillness is not always peace,
and the norms and notions of what “simply” is are not always justice.
Yet, the dawn is ours, even before we are given notice.
Somehow, we made it.
Somehow, we have resisted and witnessed how this nation is not broken,
but simply unfinished.
We, the heirs of a country and an era in which a thin African-American girl, descended from slaves and raised by a single mother, can dream of becoming president, only to be surprised then acting in the installation of another.

Of course, we are far from being refined, pure,
but this does not mean that our commitment is aimed at forming a perfect union.
We are striving to shape a union that has a purpose.
(We are striving) to create a country that is devoted to every culture, color, character and social condition.
And so we raise our gaze not to seek what divides us, but to capture what is in front of us.
We close the gap, because we know that in order to put our future first, we must first put aside our differences.
Let us leave our arms at our hips so that we can touch each other.
We do not seek to hurt others, but we seek harmony that is for everyone.
Let the world, if not others, tell us it’s true:
That even in mourning, we can grow.
That in pain, we can find hope.
That in the fatigue, we will have the awareness of having tried.
That we will be bound for eternity, one to the other, victorious.
Not because we will be free of defeat, but because we will no longer have to witness divisions.

The scriptures tell us to imagine that everyone can sit under their own vine and fig tree and not be frightened there.
If we want to live up to our time, we will not have to seek victory in the blade of a weapon, but in the bridges we have built.
This is the promise with which to arrive in a clearing, this is the hill to climb, if we have the courage to do so.
Being American is more than a pride we inherit.
It’s the past we step into and it’s the way we fix it.
We saw a force that would glimpse our country rather than hold it together.
It would destroy him if he postponed democracy.
This effort has almost succeeded.
But if it can be periodically postponed,
democracy can never be permanently destroyed.
In this truth, in this faith, we believe,
As long as we have our eyes on the future, history will have its eyes on us.
This is the era of redemption.
We were afraid of it, we feared the beginning.
We weren’t ready to be the heirs of such a horrible legacy,
But, within this horror, we found the strength to write a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
We once asked ourselves: “How can we overcome catastrophe?”. Today we ask ourselves: “How can catastrophe get the better of us?”.

We will not march back to find what it was, but we will march to what it should be:
A country that is wounded, but whole, charitable, but courageous, proud and free.
We will not be turned upside down or interrupted by any intimidation, because we know that our immobility, our inertia would be a legacy to the next generation.
Our mistakes would become their mistakes.
And one thing is certain:
If we use mercy alongside power, and power alongside right, then love will be our only legacy and change, a birthright for our children.

Therefore, let us live in a country that is better than the one we left.
With every breath my bronze-hammered chest is capable of, we will transform this wounded world into a beautiful place.
We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise again from the windswept Northeast, where our ancestors were the first to make the revolution.
We will rise from the cities surrounded by lakes in the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun kissed South.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
In every known niche of our nation, in every corner called a country,
Our people, different and beautiful, will come forward, battered yet wonderful.
When the day comes, we will step out of the shadows, ablaze and fearless.
A new dawn will bloom as we set it free.
Because there will always be light,
As long as we’re brave enough to see it.
As long as we are brave enough to be light ourselves.