POETRY

I SIT AT MY DESK I sit at my desk. What can I write to you? Sick with love, I long to see you in the flesh. I can write only, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Love cuts through my heart And tears my vitals. Spasms of longing suffocate me And will not stop.   YOU …

ONE DAY I WILL RETURN IN YOUR EYES One day I will return your eyes, and I begin again. I return with an empty sound of metal, sun and wet. I will try through the papers of the time, your body and your hair green grape. I will crown you in silence with my mouth, and with my hands that …

AUTUMN: G. Rodari The hay it is mowed, the hunter shot. Autumn is opened: the cricket has walled in the grave, in the meadow.     YELLOW LEAVES: Trilussa But where do you go, poor yellow leaves, as many butterflies carefree? You come from afar or close? By a forest or a garden? And you do not hear the melancholy …

DAYS AS FIELDS Days as fields elongated lark gray Hold eye. Trembles and raves with human harmonies, a grain rolls in the depths of the sky. (Vladas Braziūnas)

HARMONIE DU SOIR Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige. Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’un encensoir; Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir; Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige! Chaque fleur s’évapore ainsi qu’un encensoir; Le violon frémit comme un cœur qu’on afflige; Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige! Le ciel est triste et beau comme un …

BE TRUE MAYBE WHAT YOU SAY It may be true what you say, that Milan is a country that puts nausea, that the air is unhealthy, wet, thick, and we are the suckers Milan. However, my dear Mr. Monsù are thirteen years I observe one thing: that when these gentlemen plant here in this pit, those blessed roots, not washed …

THE TOWN And when in the Palazzo Vecchio, looking like an agave stone, climbed the worn steps, crossed the ancient rooms, and a worker came to see me, boss of the city, the old river, the houses cut as in moonstone, I’m not me They surprised: the majesty of the people governed. And I looked behind his mouth wires dazzling …

ECO ¿Podrías decirme qué es el sol? El sol. ¿Y la luna, podrías? Es la luna. ¿Y por qué llora Pedro inconsolable? Porque en su vida no ha tenido suerte. ¿Y qué son las montañas, las estrellas? Son solamente estrellas y montañas. ¿Y estas raíces qué? ¿Y qué estas cañas? Pues no son más que cañas y raíces. ¿Qué es …

WAIT Wait, for now. Be’ wary of all if you have to. But trust hours. Do not they have perhaps taken anywhere, up to now? Personal events you will again interesting. The hair will get interesting. The pain will be interesting. The buds that open off season get interesting. Used gloves you will again pretty; their memories are what gives …

FIRST DAY White sheets in a closet, red sheets in a bed. A child in a mother, the mother in pain. The father in front of the room, room in the house. The house in the city, the city in the night. Death in a cry, and his son in life. (Jacques Préverts) http://www.amazon.co.uk/Selected-Poems-Jacques-Prevert/dp/1870841964