Dark and light – part two

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Photo by Judy Barton, 2009

 

As I am, you will always can see.
I should be slutness, darkness,
curse against life and God, for I’m bad
when alone with my flesh: that’s my cry
 
 
Sometimes I am my beast; I could list
all my evils and sins full of nights,
grown as wrinkles which hope to be smooth.
But I’m a devoted bride, I’m a wife
 
 

I’m my skin and my grey shadow, sad,
but you can turn me into bright light.
Don’t you let me alone with my crowds
deep inside my corrupt and fool mind
 
 

As I am, you will always may see.
I am often impervious to the others:
To avoid any abuse, I’m my mask,
but you can free myself from my nights
 
 

Please, now take me, breathe me and my mind
even if I can choke who sighs so
close to me. You take me, here, now, just!
I’m poor thing, nothing else, without love

 

September,11th 2016

 

Italian version

Dark and light – part one

 

As I am, none will ever see me.
Maybe shy, I am slutness that whispers
curses yet sighing God: yes, I’m bad.
I’m my flesh and my shivers. I’m my cry.

Sometimes I am my beast, all my beasts,
or my breast seeking cuddles the nights
and my wrinkles which hope to be smooth.
But I’m a devoted bride, I’m a wife

I’m my skin, I’m my dark shadow, sad,
even if I can be true good light.
I’m alone among crowds. I am crowd
inside corrupt fool mind. Into me.

As I am, none will ever see me.
I am tough and impervious to the others.
To avoid any abuse, I’m my mask:
no one walks nude at night in the streets

Please, now take me, breathe me and my mind
even if I can choke who sighs so
close to me. You take me, here, now, just!
I’m poor thing, nothing else, without love

 

September,11th 2016

 

Italian version

Soft breeze

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(to my love, to my mountains)

 

A soft breeze carries me far away
toward mountains where rocks and lights leap
where my steps, my effort and the Beauty
bring me somewhere so near to the sky
 

We are together, I walk and you walk
on the path within silence. We are close.
I need you, I need also the enormous
feeling of boundless life, soaring love

 

September, 6th 2016

 

Oh, Leda, thank you for your bright suggestions!

 

Italian version

Nivolet

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Photo by J.B., August, 25th 2016

 

In the setting of rocks and silences
waters made as green emeralds, jewels
of sapphire follow each other pursuing
the chaste song of snows and cotton grasses
 

All is silent and smells of enormous
drawn up towards impossible Height.
The sound of my vain thoughts now is stopped
and the blue floods me whole violently
 

I am drunk of this clear light, of this sky
I feel good and dissolve each my trouble
as a stone far away among stones.
Everything is just strain and both beauty

 
And I’m fine. I feel good. I feel good

 

Col Rosset, August, 25th  2016

Italian version

Catastrophes

 

I liked a lot the beautiful poem “Catastrofi” by Marina Raccanelli. When I talked about it with my dear friend Leda, she had the idea to translate the poem into English. We did it and Marina liked our work and gave us the permission to post it here.
Well, I was impressed because the tranlsation was very easy and also a first automatic translation made by Google had an interesting result: when I try to tralslate my own stuffs into Italian or into English, Google does not work well and to respect rhytms and sound (as far it is possible)  a lot of work needs.
That consideration is probably stricly connected with the nice style of Marina: she writes about very important matters but in way simple, immediate, very easy to understand (even Google understands her!). She writes using a lovely music but her rhytm is without any strict cage of metric. On the contrary, my own style is complicated, convoluted, rigidly trapped in the cage of decasyllables; the risult is the contrast between the beautiful poems of Marina and my poor attempts to do something.
Anyway, this is the poem of Marina, translated into English by Leda and me:

 

Catastrophes

by Marina Raccanelli

There is someone who shouts in the silence
and the great house full of echoes
now is empty:
the eraser of time bleached white
peevish cheerful voices, sounds sung
chattering children and hoarse old man

I do not know where they went
and who I am, where I live

beyond the dark screen
this is the no man’s land
place of everything, home of anything –
I do not understand the languages of the crowds
nor their gestures, nor clothes, tattoos

and they swarm in absurd rituals –
while I wait for the anguish of the minutes
I am my land, I am nobody
and I go on along this long way
cut off, I don’t know for how long
from the deafening catastrophes

 

Translation by LedaEuropa and Judy Barton

Leda

picture by Marcela Bolivar

(Dedicated to LedaEuropa)

     (The girl) The girl lies on the fresh and soft grass
     near the beach, where she feels all the life
     of the sea as a swelling, and seagulls.
     The warm sun soon will caress her skin

(Leda) There a sudden weird love, as a swan
enters her, as a flabby white cloud,
and rapes her slipping his long strong neck
everywhere, like a lustful long snake

     The dawn brushes the girl body now
     with its yellow and pale grazing light
     and the sea breeze takes to her the waves
     as some delicate, far, moving whispers

Leda is both a dream, promise and flesh;
she is betrayed by that pagan sky
like all: Danae, Europa, Io, many ...
like each woman who pays live the world



August, 21st 2016

Italian version

Lighter air

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Photo by J.B., 2016

 

 

The air is lighter and invades me so deeply
into my chest and into my mind
to enrapture my grey perverse soul
beyond me and this weighty world's weird

The air is lighter and tempts me and my body
so I climb quickly to find my peace place.
In the refuge I mix and confuse
dreams and memories and silence
                                and silence

 

Mezzalama Shelter, August, 19th 2016

 

Thank you to my sister LedaEuropa for her suggestions!

Italian version