Falcons twirling

IMG_1384_internet

Photo by J.B., 2009

 

My thoughts are alike games of two falcons
twirling and pirouetting delighted
in the fresh morning air when the sunshine
absolves me from my recursive mists

The dew covers the low simple lives:
within the grass there is silver now.
I look at naked, dark, silent trees,
intertwined black hopes of the leaves

 

Italian version

Come back black

febbraio 2016 (4) ruotata web_back black

 

Come back black our earths under winter
as my heavy heart closed by bad thoughts.
I would want see light back in your eyes
and the smile between your gentle lips

 

Come back black our earths under winter
again turned by the farmer who works her.
I pray God to twist hard this my life
until it can grow in this cold winter

 

Also I come back black under winter
like when they turn up clods of the loam
and the wild green grass so disappears.
Let the green grass grow up deep in me

 

February, 1st 2016

 

Italian version