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    • The dreaming machine – issue number 10
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    • The dreaming machine n 10
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    • The dreaming machine n 7
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  • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    This Is Not A Feminist Poem – Wana Udobang (a.k.a. Wana Wana)

    from AFROWOMEN POETRY – Three Poets from Tanzania: Langa Sarakikya, Gladness Mayenga, Miriam Lucas

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    What Was Heart Is Now A Scorched Branch – Three Poems by Elina Sventsytska

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Water: The Longest Tunnel Where the Color Blue Is Born — Four Poems by SHANKAR LAHIRI

    Message to Forough Farrokhzad and other poems – Samira Albouzedi

  • Fiction
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    BOW / BHUK – Parimal Bhattacharya

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    A Very Different Story (Part II)- Nandini Sahu

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    The Aunt: An Exhilarating Story by Francesca Gargallo

    THE PROGENITOR – Zakir Talukder (trans. from Bengali by Masrufa Ayesha Nusrat)

    Stalks of Lotus – Indrani Datta

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations:  Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations: Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

  • Non Fiction
    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE TIME HAS COME – Gaius Tsaamo

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” –  Massimo Ceresa

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” – Massimo Ceresa

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

  • Interviews & reviews
    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    From Euromaidan: Three Ukrainian poets to spoil Westsplaining fest in Italy – Zarina Zabrisky

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    • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE MATERICIST MANIFESTO by AVANGUARDIE VERDI

    Artwork by Mubeen Kishany – Contamination and Distancing

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    The Shipwreck Saga – Lynne Knight

    Phoenix: Part I – YIN Xiaoyuan

    Surrender to Our Explosive Democracy – Five Poems by Serena Piccoli from “gulp/gasp” (Moria Poetry 2022)

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Me and French, or What I Did During the Pandemic (Moi et le français, ou Ce que j’ai fais pendant la pandémie) – Carolyn Miller

    Becoming-animal as a Mirror – Ten Animals from Gabriele Galloni’s Bestiary

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

  • Home
  • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    This Is Not A Feminist Poem – Wana Udobang (a.k.a. Wana Wana)

    from AFROWOMEN POETRY – Three Poets from Tanzania: Langa Sarakikya, Gladness Mayenga, Miriam Lucas

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    The Bitter Bulbs of Trees Growing by the Roadsides of History – Three Poems by Iya Kiva

    What Was Heart Is Now A Scorched Branch – Three Poems by Elina Sventsytska

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Water: The Longest Tunnel Where the Color Blue Is Born — Four Poems by SHANKAR LAHIRI

    Message to Forough Farrokhzad and other poems – Samira Albouzedi

  • Fiction
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    BOW / BHUK – Parimal Bhattacharya

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    A Very Different Story (Part II)- Nandini Sahu

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    The Aunt: An Exhilarating Story by Francesca Gargallo

    THE PROGENITOR – Zakir Talukder (trans. from Bengali by Masrufa Ayesha Nusrat)

    Stalks of Lotus – Indrani Datta

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations:  Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    Love in Africa and the Variety of its Declinations: Short-story Tasting from Disco Matanga by Alex Nderitu

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

  • Non Fiction
    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Menstruation in Fiction: The Authorial Gaze – Farah Ahamed

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Aadya Shakti, or Primal Energy – Lyla Freechild

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE TIME HAS COME – Gaius Tsaamo

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” –  Massimo Ceresa

    THE AMAZONS OF THE APOCALYPSE from “Ikonoklast – Oksana Šačko’: arte e rivoluzione” – Massimo Ceresa

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

  • Interviews & reviews
    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The mushroom at the end of the world. Camilla Boemio interviews Silia Ka Tung

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    The Excruciating Beauty of Ukrainian Bravery: Camilla Boemio Interviews Zarina Zabrisky on Her Photography Series

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Everything Moves and Everything Is About Relationships. Susan Aberg Interviews Painter Louise Victor

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Videos from worldwide readings in support of Ukrainian writers, September 7, 2022 – Zoom Readings Italy

    Reportage of War and Emotions, the Tour of Three Ukrainian Poets in Italy

    From Euromaidan: Three Ukrainian poets to spoil Westsplaining fest in Italy – Zarina Zabrisky

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    THE MATERICIST MANIFESTO by AVANGUARDIE VERDI

    Artwork by Mubeen Kishany – Contamination and Distancing

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Glory to the Heroes! Poems by Volodymyr Tymchuk

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    Materials from Worldwide Readings in Solidarity with Salman Rushdie – Bologna Event

    The Shipwreck Saga – Lynne Knight

    Phoenix: Part I – YIN Xiaoyuan

    Surrender to Our Explosive Democracy – Five Poems by Serena Piccoli from “gulp/gasp” (Moria Poetry 2022)

    Take Note of the Sun Shining Within Twilight – Four Poems by Natalia Beltchenko

    Me and French, or What I Did During the Pandemic (Moi et le français, ou Ce que j’ai fais pendant la pandémie) – Carolyn Miller

    Becoming-animal as a Mirror – Ten Animals from Gabriele Galloni’s Bestiary

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

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A WORLD WITHOUT A LIBRETTO: Poems by Julio Monteiro Martins

November 28, 2017
in Poetry, The dreaming machine n 1
silviotrump – Serena Piccoli
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Translated from the Italian poetry collection “La grazia di casa mia”, Rediviva 2013, by Donald Stang and Helen Wickes, reviewed by Pina Piccolo.

 

UNEXPECTED PARADIGMS

A literary critic from São Paulo,
reflecting on Brazilian song
of the twentieth century
said that the secret
of its popularity
was the substantial presence
of unexpected paradigms
in the lyrics.

 

The unusual juxtaposition,
surprising,
and sometimes even bizarre,
of two nouns, of two things
which never ought
to appear together,
like tumor and diamond,
petal and lead.

 

Each of these paradigms
could cause
a brief and benevolent
mental short-circuit.

 

So then I think of the new century,
the one of pre-emptive wars,
of the rogue state,
of bombs blasting
in the name of liberty.

 

Welcome to the kingdom
of unexpected paradigms!
Please make yourself at home,
ass and metaphysics,
nice and spread out
on these muddied, chaste sheets.

 

You can expect to receive rocks thrown
and masked frenzies,
and they will take from you
hypothalami and harpoons,
while supplies last
in the utter season of pain.

 

Poor Brazilian song,
poor Chico Buarque,
Gil,
Noel Rosa and Caetano,
Jobim,
João Gilberto.
Their winning
rhetorical strategy
has become
the daily dalliance
of the new sensibility.

 

But the game goes on.
The possible conspiracies
are infinite.
Let’s shuffle the words
one more time:
The strategy of the tumor
of well-fed Chico Buarque
has become
the lead harpoon
of chaste liberty.
The rogue nouns
of the short-circuited century
are unexpected stones,
are pure mental mud
disguised
as rhetorical diamonds.

 

 

I PARADIGMI IMPREVISTI

Un critico letterario di São Paulo,
ragionando sulla canzone brasiliana
del Ventesimo secolo
diceva che il segreto
del suo successo popolare
era la nutrita presenza
dei paradigmi imprevisti
nelle parole.

 

L’accostamento insolito,
sorprendente,
e a volte anche bizzarro
di due sostantivi, di due cose
che non dovrebbero mai
comparire insieme
come il tumore e il diamante,
il petalo e il piombo.

 

Ognuno di questi paradigmi
potrebbe causare
un breve e benevolo
cortocircuito mentale.

 

Allora penso al nuovo secolo,
quello delle guerre preventive,
dello stato canaglia,
delle bombe esplose
per la libertà.

 

Benvenuti nel regno
dei paradigmi imprevisti!
Accomodatevi pure,
culo e metafisica,
per favore, larghi
sulle caste lenzuola di fango.

 

Vi aspettano sassi
e febbri mascherati,
vi saranno sottratti
ipotalami e arpioni
fino all’esaurimento scorta
della pura stagione del dolore.

 

Povera canzone brasiliana,
poveri Chico Buarque,
Gil,
Noel Rosa e Caetano,
Jobim,
João Gilberto.
La loro strategia
retorica vincente
è diventata
il cane quotidiano
della nuova sensibilità.

 

Ma il gioco non si ferma.
Sono infinite
le cospirazioni possibili.
Rimescoliamo le parole
ancora una volta:
La strategia del tumore
del nutrito Chico Buarque
è diventata
l’arpione di piombo
della casta libertà.
I sostantivi canaglie
del secolo cortocircuito
sono sassi imprevisti,
sono puro fango mentale
mascherato
di diamanti retorici.

 

 

MUSIC

I was waiting for a film to start
in front of the wrong cinema.
I was alone,
there wasn’t a line,
and the evening was darkening.

 

I was sitting on the steps
next to the statue of Puccini,
who was also seated,
in an armchair.
He held a cigarette
between his fingers.
I too would like to smoke,
but I gave it up
ten years ago.

 

Once
in a piazza in Rio
they unveiled
a bronze bust
of a friend of mine.
I saw it by chance,
while crossing distractedly.
And what a fright!
It was him
but with vacant eyes
and an enormous brown head
which just at that moment
was being soiled by a pigeon.
My poor friend,
poor Pedrosa,
what have your admirers
done to you?

 

By then I had realized
that it was the wrong theater.
But something held me
in that deserted piazza,
in the dusky twilight
which skimmed the windows.

 

All of a sudden,
and slowly walking backwards,
a tall man
with white hair,
arrived.
He was looking at the sky, the chimneys,
and he was smiling ecstatically.

 

When he noticed me
he said softly:
“It’s the nightingale.
It  will sing like this
all night long.”

 

Only in that moment I understood
why I was still waiting
in front of a closed portal,
why I wanted to
talk with Puccini,
why I had not moved
from my steps.

 

Beauty
had entered in me.
A gentle intoxication
of music.
A dizziness,
a lethargy,
a torpor in the air.

 

Hidden in an opening,
or between the roof tiles,
the little bird
holds dominion.
When I was a child
they would tell me
the legend of the uirapurú:
a tiny bird
of the Amazon.
When it sings the jungle
falls completely silent,
and the jaguar doesn’t roar,
the monkeys don’t scream,
not a single nut falls
through the foliage.

 

And night descends
on the piazza.
Descends on Puccini
and on all the music,
on the white hair
of the childlike man,
descends on my skin,
on everything down here,
on a world
that has chosen metal,
the sharp edges hidden by the darkness,
as its setting.
A world without a libretto.

 

Night descends,
but the Tuscan uirapurú
is still singing.

 

So let the curtain
of great night descend.

 

From your undiscoverable cranny
let this jungle be silenced.

 

As I am tired,
let silence fall on me as well.

 

 

MUSICA

Aspettavo l’inizio di un film

di fronte al cinema sbagliato.
Ero solo,
non c’era nessuna fila,
e s’incupiva la sera.

 

Ero seduto sullo scalino
accanto alla statua di Puccini,
anche lui seduto,
su una poltrona.
Aveva tra le dita
una sigaretta.
Vorrei fumare anch’io,
ma ho smesso
dieci anni fa.

 

Un tempo
avevano inaugurato
in una piazza di Rio
un busto di bronzo
di un mio amico.
L’ho visto per caso,
attraversando distratto.
E che spavento!
Era lui
ma con gli occhi vuoti
e una enorme testa marrone
che proprio in quel momento
era imbrattata da un piccione.
Povero amico mio,
povero Pedrosa,
cosa hanno fatto di te
i tuoi ammiratori?

 

A quel punto avevo già capito
che quello era il cinema sbagliato.
Ma qualcosa mi inchiodava
a quella piazza deserta,
al crepuscolo bruno
che lambiva le trifore.

 

E all’improvviso,
camminando a ritroso,
lentamente è arrivato
un uomo alto
con i capelli bianchi.
Guardava il cielo, i comignoli,
e sorrideva estatico.

 

Quando si è accorto di me
ha detto piano:
“È l’usignolo.
Canterà così
per tutta la notte.”

 

Solo in quel momento ho capito
perché aspettavo ancora
davanti a un portone chiuso,
perché volevo
discutere con Puccini,
perché non mi ero mosso
dal mio scalino.

 

Era entrata in me
la bellezza.
Un’intossicazione
benigna di musica.
Uno stordimento,
una spossatezza,
un torpore nell’aria.

 

Nascosto in una feritoia,
o tra le tegole,
il piccolo uccello
domina.
Da bambino
mi raccontavano
la leggenda dell’uirapurú:
uccello minuscolo
dell’Amazzonia.
Quando canta la giungla
fa un silenzio assoluto,
e non ruggisce il giaguaro,
non urlano le scimmie,
non cade nessuna noce
sopra il fogliame.

 

E scende la notte
sulla piazza.
Scende su Puccini
e su tutta la musica,
scende sui capelli bianchi
dell’uomo bambino,
scende sulla mia pelle,
su tutto quello che ci sta sotto,
scende su un mondo
che ha eletto il metallo,
gli spigoli nascosti nelle tenebre
a suo scenario.
Un mondo senza testo.

Scende la notte,
ma canta ancora
l’uirapurú toscano.

Fai scendere tu allora
il sipario della grande notte.

Dal tuo introvabile anfratto
fai zittire questa giungla.

E fai zittire anche me,
che sono stanco.

 

ELECTIVE AFFINITIES

 

So that my friends
might love me more
perhaps I should stop
writing about them
(or writing about anything).

 

So that they might love me
madly,
and unconditionally,
I simply have to
abandon my native land,
change my language,
give up very young women,
change my ideas about everything,
resign myself to the free market,
to things the way they are,
quit drinking,
smoking whatever,
quit criticizing
noteworthy people,
sleep less,
and quit
the pleasures of sex.

 

If only I knew how much
my friends love me!
(I know that they could
love me even more).

 

I must take care
not to be controversial,
not to commit little slights
(neither to them
nor to anyone),
not to say no,
never to contradict them,
nor ever to reveal
their lies
(but there are so many…
how will I ever
remember them all?).

 

 

Ah, my friends
my earthly treasure!
What a privilege
to have them always near,
and above and below and inside.
I must guess
their most hidden
desires,
their whims,
their prejudices,
so that
warmed, reassured,
their love may continually grow.

 

Then you will be the lucky one,
the lake where all
the rivers meet
with their mighty affection
pressing up against the banks.

 

Ah, the friends!
What an orgy
of opinions,
how many veiled threats
behind their advice,
how much abandonment
in their disappointed silence.

 

So that they may love me more,
these friends of mine,
I would do anything.
Even what
they would never dare ask:
I will give them the maximum
of every bit of my minimum
How satisfying!
And how pleased they will be!

 

LE AFFINITÀ ELETTIVE

Perché i miei amici
mi amino di più
forse dovrei smettere
di scrivere di loro
(o di scrivere qualunque cosa).

Perché mi amino
follemente,
e in modo incondizionato,
dovrei solo
abbandonare la terra natale,
cambiare lingua,
rinunciare alle donne giovanissime,
cambiare idee su tutto,
rassegnarmi al libero mercato,
alle cose così come stanno,
smettere di bere,
di fumare checché sia,
dovrei smettere di criticare
i personaggi noti,
dormire meno,
e lasciare perdere
le delizie del sesso.

Sapessi come mi amano
i miei amici!
(so che potrebbero
amarmi anche di più).

Dovrei solo stare
attento a non polemizzare,
a non fare piccoli sgarbi
(né a loro,
né a nessuno),
a non dire di no,
a non contraddirli mai,
a non svelare mai
le loro bugie
(ma sono tante…
come faccio
a ricordarle tutte?).

Ah, gli amici,
tesoro di questa terra!
Che privilegio
averli sempre intorno,
e sopra e sotto e dentro.
Bisogna indovinare
i loro desideri
più nascosti,
i loro capricci,
i loro pregiudizi,
per fare sì
che riscaldati, rassicurati,
cresca sempre il loro amore.

Sarai tu poi il fortunato
lago dove sfociano
tanti fiumi
col loro possente affetto
a premere contro gli argini.

Ah, gli amici!
Che orgia
di opinioni,
quante minacce velate
dietro i loro consigli,
quanto abbandono
nel loro silenzio deluso.

Perché mi amino di più,
questi miei amici,
farei qualsiasi cosa.
Persino quello che
non oserebbero mai chiedere:
Porterò ogni mio minimo
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Júlio Cesar Monteiro Martins was born in Niterói, in the Greater Rio, in 1955 and died in Pisa in 2014. His Portuguese literary production  includes several short-story books: Torpalium, Sabe Quem Dançou?, A Oeste de Nada, As Forças Desarmadas, and Muamba. Monteiro Martins is also the author of three novels: Artérias e Becos, Bárbara, O Espaço Imaginário and a volume of essays: O Livro das Diretas. He was one of the founders of the Brazilian Green Party and from 1992 to 1994 worked as a lawyer for the Brazilian Center in Defense of Children’s Rights. He taught creative writing  at the Goddard College in the US and was a professor in Italy, teaching literary creation and Brazilian literature at the University of Pisa. His Italian language literary production (under the name of Julio Monteiro Martins) is extensive and includes short story collections, novels and poetry. Among his most important works:  “Racconti italiani” (2000), “La passione del vuoto” (2003), “madrelingua” (2005),  “L’amore scritto (2007), the poetry collection “La grazia di casa mia” (2013)  and his  posthumous book “La macchina sognante” (2015). He was the founder and director of the online international literature quarterly “Sagarana”, which was in existence uninterruptedly from 2000 to 2014.

 

Featured image: Photo by Melina Piccolo

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