Le traduzioni che seguono, in lingua inglese, sono state realizzate con il prezioso contributo della poetessa Elena Cattaneo.
I wish it was snow this gap
a stainless white
and flowers skimming the evening.
I carry light suitcases, you said
I close the door slowly, I save
an unexpected glimmer out of it,
those soles of wind.
I speak the rifting blue, I watch over
the ring where the hands pray
the bleeding voice.
I stay here, hanging in this chrism
of silence. Steps that get lost
in a breath, the footprint that blakens the nails.
You remember them by disjointed
associations, heart drifts.
Like a flower bandana while
you set the table, or a snake
ring while you water
the garden or while dozing.
Or again, you remember a pedalo ride
you do not know when, and the sharp light. False.
Someone waving from the shore.
Deprived symbols, atoms
of dull stuff. Nothing noble
– perhaps we live on our losses –
nothing useful or just understandable.
However writing of it.
The art of forgetting.
With my eyes closed
Swirled in a vivid breath the air
like a strong amethyst wind.
Bore that tremor a blow of wings
crackled in green at the rough rinds
a vortex of steam and shadow.
Then it dripped a clear liqueur, watery
sweet of pollen, it rolled on the edge
and left a wake of resin.
Whiteness that surrendered, crashed the dawn.
I stood in that silence
in its very fragile word.
My awakening profaned it forever.
Gli stessi testi sono presenti anche sulla pagina personale del poeta in Italian Poetry