Michele Mari

TRans. by Brian Robert Moore

The Priest’s House
(An Irish Folktale)

for Hugo Doyle

At sunrise, in the yard of the priest’s house, someone has crossed two wet branches over the mouth of the well—tell me: is there anything more frightening than two wet branches over the mouth of a well?

At night, in the garden of the priest’s house, there is a white dahlia that sheds light like a lantern—tell me: is there anything more frightening than a white dahlia gleaming in the dark?

If you pass by the priest’s house at night, don’t turn around: you might see a hooded figure staring at you out of two blind sockets—tell me: do you know anything more frightening than this?

If it rains and the wind blows, don’t set out towards the priest’s house: you might see a lit flame reflected by a glass—tell me: who then from a mortal fright could save you?

In the hour of the sun and the hawk, the air trembles on a point of the roof of the priest’s house, on only one point—tell me: who doesn’t see what this means?

I call after you and you don’t respond, little brother—you’re shut up in the priest’s house.

The little horsey has disappeared—he’s tied up in the priest’s cellar.

The priest did not come back to his house again—who lives in the priest’s house?

The priest never went away from his house—he died of fright.

The priest is a living dead man—the priest is the feeling of fright.

The priest is at the bottom of the well—with the branches he cannot get out.

The priest places the branches—who’s lying at the bottom of the well?

But the greatest fright is when the priest’s house is lit by the Moon—ask old Jenny why.

The shadows on the priest’s house peel off the walls and come towards you—run, little sister!

The swing rocks, in the garden of the priest’s house—no one has ever seen it stop rocking.

If you circle around the priest’s house, you won’t be able to get back to the road—too many have already tried!

There is a house, right beyond the town—they call it the priest’s house.

If you pass by at sunrise, you’ll see two wet branches over the mouth of the well, in the shape of a cross—oh, tell me, you who do not know: might you know anything more frightening than this?  

Brian Robert Moore worked for several years in the Italian publishing industry, including as foreign fiction editor of the press Chiarelettere. He studied Comparative Literature and Italian at Brown University, and completed an MPhil in Irish Writing at Trinity College Dublin. His translation of Meeting in Positano by Goliarda Sapienza is forthcoming in 2021 from Other Press. He splits his time between Philadelphia and his hometown of New York City. His email is moorebrianrobert@gmail.com.

Michele Mari (1955, Milan) is one of Italy’s most renowned contemporary authors. He has published ten novels, in addition to poetry and short story collections, and has received prizes such as the Premio Mondello and Premio Bagutta. He teaches Italian literature at the Università degli Studi di Milano, and his translations include novels by John Steinbeck and George Orwell. The Priest’s House is taken from his collection of metatextual horror stories, Fantasmagonia (Einaudi, 2012).