2 poems in Italian

The following are another two elegies I wrote soon after the death of my mother. The memory of people you loved and who loved you remains, their words, those special and daily moments, the way they talked and moved, their favourite places. And this is stronger when the missing person is a mother! I know that what remains of my mother are photos, bits of video-tape and echoes of her voice or words, that’s all. However, deep down there is a wish of mine: that someday and somewhere, my mother and I meet again.

Resta solo...

Crepuscolo gemere delle campane
luce e tenebra
chi tra di voi è l’amico e il beffardo?
M’avviluppo nella tenebra
e bramo la tua fisica presenza
ieri così vicina ora lontanissima...
Resta solo la luce del tuo ricordo
le dolci note della tua voce battono ancora
segretamente
dentro il cuore mio,
resta solo la luce del tuo
materno sorriso.


Insieme seguiremo il corso del fiume

Vorrei incontrarti di nuovo
non più moribonda...
vorrei incontrarti
in un deserto giardino
coperto di foglie dorate
e ascoltare la tua voce
nel fruscio autunnale
e là abbracciarti
bagnare le secche foglie
con queste lacrime
che continuano a ritornare
inesorabilmente
finquando morirà questo
mio vuoto interiore che
pesa da morire
finquando insieme seguiremo
il corso del fiume là vicino...

Poem in English

I wrote this poem in October 2005. It’s another elegy, this time dedicated to my dear mother who left this world in September 2004 at the age of 60. Immediately after her death I began to feel the sensation that we as human beings are only temporary, our stay in this world is so short and ephemeral. Questions that frequently come to my mind are: “Which place is truly ours? This world or somewhere else? Is our stay here a short dream or crude reality? Is there a better place than here?” After my mom’s death I started feeling myself homeless, at certain moments.

One past

I listen to past voices
wandering over a desert of mute tombs.
The bees are thirsty for your presence
and I am thirsty for water...
I recall you
washing the laundry in the Twyfords basin
the smell of Hygene burning your breadth.
The sun burns and I recall as a child
your warm motherly arms.
For me today you’re nowhere and everywhere
always and never, everything and nothing
yesterday today... and tomorrow?
Today I limp the heavy steps of the days
one by one
and in silence look straight to see if
I could sight the conquering end
- a stranger yet so near -
impotently aware that some day
everything will find its rest
in one past, unknowingly...