MARCH 8th 2019
by Giovanni Torres La Torre
Incomplete and almost solemn the light of this day
returns where it had already been to brighten the flowers in the balcony
to listen to the music of a piano, wishing to get lost
in the mimosa names, of all old songs
when mothers hang out linens
and byzantine madonnas disguised as hazelnut pickers
ran around singing.
Others, as now, in deserts and on seas along barren thirsty paths
that had lost their sails and leaves and stars,
ravaged by tormenting nightmares
but still taking a bet on human games
to have enough to crave a tender dream again.
There is no other love you can worthily live
name of rivers, seas and mountains without imagining
the spell of a cry of love and insanity
to trust every woman with the world of divinity of their life,
mothers of sons felt among the whiteness of veils
or the hellish sharp and piercing cries of every slum,
gibberish of happy days flying without wings
and burning thirst sinking in waterless wells.
We still imagine a persisting emotion that can trust
the light of times with the devastated remains of the word love
lifeblood, soul, flesh, water, salt, wisdom,
dream, thought, music, poetry and different bread and other forms,
and the ones before, holding hands in the struggle of living.
From the Crystal Islands a shape of cloud arrives
a loving woman face becomes the tree of life
and the wind enfolds its foliage dream with veils; in the same sky,
almost an architecture of beauty, the shawl devastated
by the desert thirst, in womanly likeness,
she tries to tell a despair and we, away from her,
are here to follow other correspondences of light and sounds
to discover secret analogies between the triumph of life and death,
Panic heavenly love that grows a symphony
on hidden ruins of an old temple covered by ivy
and the infinite profile of barbed wire
and the caprice of hot winds with ribbons of flesh.
The labors of days come and go with the weary bags of the bread of memory
that writes and writes again the longing for the mother and other missing stairs,
and she lives the times of life that goes on and on for ever
from blooming to blooming in the thorny bush of every love.
Versione inglese della poesia "Lettera aperta ai nomi delle mimose del mondo", scritta da Giovanni Torres La Torre in occasione della Giornata della donna 2019.
Traduzione a cura della Prof.ssa Lina Viola