Perhaps

 

Pic by Dony Mugnai, found here

 

When you say “perhaps” you
talk about something vague
that might be or might not
something maybe you’d like
it to be. It’s a hope, maybe vain

“Perhaps” sounds as a breath
come from nowhere, as breeze,
fresh air moved by my mind,
breath from odd thoughts, from hide
spots of brains, hearths, of urges
born as mere odds, as chance

So “perhaps” refers to
dreams, not aware tools, acts;
something that could be true
yet now it is not so

My “perhaps” is like hope
about love, about life.
I would “perhaps” could be
I wish me can be true
I would like see my wings
to spread out of my shell
to make fly this my wreck

 

SL, Rainbow Rhapsody, July, 23rd 2022

 

Swifts

 

Pic by me, that place, that day

 

A short holiday makes little lighter
all the cares that give me many troubles
This old town gives itself to us and
owns us like it did when we got married

Crazy game all swifts play fast and freely
while I watch them black under the sky
                                                            over Siena.
As it’s usual I envy them when
my eyes and mind scroll across deep blue

Please, don’t let our memory wane
and our passion turn to old regret:
It’s my love odd and needs skin and flesh,
to be concrete and not abstract trend

 

Siena, July, 1st 2022

 

 

Italian version

 

They grow up

Toward London together with my sons, 2017

 

After these rainy and strange and cold months
everything is well usual, awake
in the world of green life,
                                        in this time
where already spring is warming up

You are peaceful too. I look at you
while you talk and have rest quietly.
What will do our sons to whom we
gave both life and sense to be in the world?

Now they go unsteady and shaky but
but they try as we too tried then.
Let’s give them all that field we could to have
when our time was so dense: a promise

 

May, 31st 2019

 

Italian version

Now I’m free

Image from here

(from Chiaroscuro)

Now I’m free.

Not thanks to an absolute

Will
I am free.

There’s a plot for my gestures,
For the present time

And the next.

Now I watch at the pale sun,
The same sun, at the Poplar,
At that fog and that silence.

Now I’m free.

 

Italian version