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    • The dreaming machine n 10
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The Dreaming Machine

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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

  • 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)

  • 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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Home Out of bounds

TO THE SOUTH OF THINGS – Pasqualino Bongiovanni

November 28, 2017
in Out of bounds, Poetry, The dreaming machine n 1
THE POET IN PRISON: CRACKS IN THE SKIN – Ashraf Fayadh
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Poems translated by Helen Wickes and Donald Stang, based on Giuseppe Villella’s original  translation for the Canadian edition of To the South of Things – A sud delle cose (bilingual edition) – Institute of Italian Studies Lakehead University – Thunder Bay (Ontario – Canada), 2013.

 

 

BUDS FOR GRAFTING

 

What can be seen from outside

is only one

of our innumerable lives,

only one

of our cursed jobs.

 

As in some letters

begun with many mistakes,

from all our previous lives

we have torn out the pages

tossing them who knows where.

 

We have thousands of lives

that no one sees,

hidden in the bones,

in the hands callused by the hoe

and the pickaxes,

in the backs bent over the roofs

of thousands of houses

that will never

be ours.

 

We have silent lives

full of dignity,

that no one has ever heard about.

 

We have been merchants,

chemists and engineers,

farmers, smiths,

carpenters and nurses.

 

And one of us

was even a teacher

who taught children

to read fairy tales

and write their own names,

names which many now

no longer know how to pronounce.

 

Ours

is a recycled life,

like paper, glass,

and scrap iron.

 

Our clothes

smell of bitter tobacco,

of quicklime and cement;

they smell of sweat.

 

We are the rotten smell

on the bus,

we are the teeth

missing from a smile,

the wrong shirts

over woolen pants.

 

We are the flesh of the cargo,

the guts in the hold.

We are the blackness

of a night without stars,

fenced-in sheep

often kept under watch,

with jail if it comes to it.

We are abandoned cars

used as houses.

 

We are the crime news,

the scapegoat:

for everyone who makes a mistake,

thousands accuse us;

for the many taken advantage of,

and who work,

no one pardons us.

 

Therefore,

of our most recent life

we have once again

torn out the page

tossing it who knows where,

but for all our

future lives

we will again have hope

and the wish to laugh

and dance

and drink.

We will also have

the wish to write

and maybe one day,

perhaps on the last page,

 

we will even succeed

in doing it well.

 

***

 

And you,

as it is written,

don’t upset yourself

about the single tree

that the lightning strikes and uproots

with a huge racket,

but be pleased

instead

for all these other trees

in the woods,

that silently

continue to grow

and to make one, a hundred,

a thousand other lives.

Because today

we are the buds for grafting,

able to give good fruit,

even with other roots,

and on other branches.

 

 

LE GEMME DA INNESTO
Quella che da fuori si vede

è soltanto una

delle nostre innumerevoli vite,

soltanto uno

dei nostri maledetti mestieri.

 

Come per delle lettere

iniziate con molti errori,

di tutte le vite precedenti

ne abbiamo strappato le pagine

buttandole chissà dove.

 

Abbiamo migliaia di vite

che nessuno vede

nascoste nelle ossa,

nelle mani callose di zappa

e di piccone,

nelle schiene curve sopra i tetti

di migliaia di case

che mai saranno

nostre.

 

Abbiamo vite silenti

cariche di dignità

che nessuno ha mai ascoltato.

 

Siamo stati commercianti,

chimici e ingegneri,

contadini, fabbri,

falegnami e infermieri.

 

E qualcuno di noi

era perfino un maestro

che insegnava ai bambini

a leggere fiabe

e a scrivere il proprio nome,

quello che molti ora

non sanno più pronunciare.

 

La nostra

è vita riciclata,

come la carta, il vetro,

il ferro da buttare.

 

I nostri indumenti

sanno di tabacco amaro,

di calce e di cemento,

di sudore sanno.

 

Siamo l’odore guasto

sugli autobus,

siamo i denti mancanti

di un sorriso,

le camicie sbagliate

su pantaloni di lana.

 

Siamo carne da bastimento,

viscere di stiva.

Siamo il nero

di una notte senza stelle,

pecore da recinto,

sorvegliati spesso

al limite con la galera.

Siamo vagoni abbandonati

adibiti a case.

 

Siamo la cronaca nera

il capro espiatorio:

per qualcuno che sbaglia

migliaia ci accusano,

per tanti sfruttati

che lavorano

nessuno ci assolve.

 

Così,

della vita più recente

ne abbiamo nuovamente

strappato la pagina

buttandola chissà dove,

ma per tutte le nostre

vite future

avremo ancora speranza,

e voglia di ridere

e ballare

e bere.

Avremo ancora

voglia di scrivere

e magari un giorno,

forse sull’ultima pagina,

 

riusciremo

a farlo anche bene.

 

***

 

E voi,

come è scritto,

non lasciatevi turbare,

dal solo albero

che il fulmine abbatte e sradica

con grande frastuono,

ma compiacetevi,

invece,

per tutti quegli altri alberi

che nel bosco,

silenziosamente,

continuano a crescere

e a fare una, cento,

e mille altre vite.

Perché noi oggi

siamo gemme da innesto

capaci di dare buoni frutti

anche con altre radici

e su altri rami.

 

 

 

UNOCUMENTED

 

The laces

that tighten the shoes

get snarled,

and yielding,

along with them,

is that tenacious will

that always,

like a deep-set boulder,

has tied me to the earth.

 

My steps slacken

and I can’t find work

nor an address

nor a house.

 

I live

undocumented

but I live,

without a number

or a name,

I flee the lists,

the voices, the glances,

curious to know

or classify.

 

The laces

of my shoes

get snarled

and it little matters

(I’ll go back to walking

barefoot

as I did in childhood

on the streets

of my country);

but they loosen,

those strings

that keep a whole life

on its feet,

and I die,

a thousand times a day,

 

at every step

undocumented

I die.

 

 

CLANDESTINO
Si smagliano

i lacci

che stringono

le scarpe,

e cede

insieme a loro

quella volontà ostinata

che da sempre,

come roccia profonda,

mi incatena al suolo.

 

Si allentano i passi

e non trovo lavoro

né indirizzo

né casa.

 

Vivo,

clandestino

ma vivo,

e senza numero

né nome,

fuggo gli elenchi,

le voci e gli sguardi

curiosi di sapere

o catalogare.

 

Si smagliano

i lacci

delle mie scarpe

e poco importa

(tornerò a camminare

a piedi nudi

come da fanciullo

per le strade

del mio paese);

ma cedono

quelle stringhe

che tengono in piedi

la vita intera,

e muoio,

mille volte al giorno

ad ogni passo

da clandestino

muoio.

 

 

SONG OF THE NEW EMIGRANTS
                           For Franco Costabile    

 

Don’t ask anything more!

We have locked away

our tears

using lock picks

of anger,

or nothing.

With shame,

we’ve closed

all our vowels,

the broad and coarse ones.

We have learned

to fold

life

into one suitcase,

to tidily

pack away

the soul

into a box.

We hold

books of hope

concealed in a briefcase.

We sing

our music by heart,

but we tap to the time

and answer to the rhythm

of whatever demand.

We turn

toward any name

on the map;

disembark

at the requested stops.

We pay what’s owed,

take the change,

and we are happy with that.

 

 

CANTO DEI NUOVI EMIGRANTI
(Omaggio a Franco Costabile)

 

Non chiedeteci altro!

Abbiamo serrato

le lacrime

con grimaldelli

di rabbia,

con niente.

Abbiamo chiuso

con vergogna

tutte le vocali

ampie e sgangherate.

Abbiamo imparato

a ripiegare

in una valigia

la vita,

a riporre

ordinatamente

l’anima

in una scatola.

Abbiamo

titoli di speranza

chiusi nella cartella.

Cantiamo

musiche a memoria.

Bussiamo a tempo

e rispondiamo al ritmo

di qualsiasi pretesa.

Svoltiamo

ad ogni nome

segnato sulla carta;

scendiamo

alle fermate richieste.

Paghiamo il giusto,

prendiamo il resto,

e basta.

 

 

 

FOREIGNERS

Courage, brothers

we will try

not to displease

our host,

we’ll be quiet

and will move carefully

without committing a crime.

 

We won’t shout in public.

 

We will live,

as tenants of the world.

 

We will greet people

according to language and custom,

will knock quietly

and ask permission

before we enter,

will smile at passersby

and keep our heads down.

 

We won’t request to speak

and won’t utter opinions,

and in silence we will pray

to our God.

 

We will give in

to the fool and to the boor.

 

And at last

when we return home

in all our infinite roughness

we will choose a tree

under which to grow old.

 

 

STRANIERI

Coraggio fratelli,

cercheremo

di non scontentare

chi ci ospita,

faremo piano

e ci muoveremo furtivi

senza commettere reato.

 

Non urleremo in pubblico.

 

Vivremo,

come inquilini del mondo.

 

Saluteremo

secondo la lingua e l’uso,

busseremo piano

e chiederemo permesso

prima di entrare,

sorrideremo ai passanti

e terremo bassa la testa.

 

Non chiederemo parola

e non pronunceremo opinione,

pregheremo in silenzio

il nostro Dio.

 

Acconsentiremo

allo stolto e al villano.

 

E quando finalmente

torneremo alle case,

nella nostra infinita rozzezza

sceglieremo un albero

sotto il quale invecchiare.

 

 

 

THE LITTLE TRAIN CLATTERS

From the heart of Rome

Porta Maggiore,

compass of water and marble,

faces the south of things

and shows the way.

 

The little train clatters

on the Casilina

with its load of starvation

and eastern spices.

Tor Pignattara,

iron and tar,

is the crossroads of the world.

No longer cargo holds

nor waves

nor rust buckets,

but straight road

shrieking and shaking

below the rails;

and at Grotte Celoni,

terminus for the poor,

waiting motionless,

there is another road

and all the patience

needed to travel it

without swearing.

 

Somewhere

one has at least something

that looks like a home.

 

Our prayers tonight

go to our other brothers,

to the hopes

embedded in the eyes of those who,

off the coast of Lampedusa,

were swallowed by the sea instead.

 

Would that love were enough

to give rise to love!


 

IL TRENINO SFERRAGLIA

Dal cuore di Roma

Porta Maggiore,

bussola di acqua e di marmo,

guarda al sud delle cose

e indica il cammino.

 

Il trenino sferraglia

sulla Casilina

col suo carico di digiuno

e di spezie orientali.

Tor Pignattara,

ferro e catrame,

è incrocio del mondo,

non più stiva

né onde,

né carretta del mare,

ma strada dritta

che stride e trema

sotto le rotaie;

e a Grotte Celoni,

capolinea dei poveri,

ad attendere immobile

c’è altro cammino

e tutta la pazienza

necessaria a percorrerlo

senza inveire.

 

Da qualche parte

si ha almeno qualcosa

che somiglia ad una casa.

 

La preghiera

stasera

è per altri fratelli,

per quelle speranze

impresse negli occhi

che a largo di Lampedusa

sono state invece

inghiottite dal mare.

 

Bastasse amare

per far nascere amore!

 

 


 

Pasqualino Bongiovanni, born in 1971 in Lamezia Terme (Calabria, Italy), is an award winning poet and musicologist, with a degree  in Humanities from the University “La Sapienza” in Rome. He teaches Italian and classical guitar.  As a poet he published his first work, A sud delle cose, in Rome in 2006; a collection of poems with an introductory note by acclaimed Italian writer Mario Rigoni Stern (1921-2008). The collection has been then translated into Spanish by José M. Carcione and published in Argentina in a bilingual edition with the title Al sur de las cosas (Buenos Aires, 2012). In 2013, it was translated into English by Giuseppe Villella and published in Canada in a bilingual edition with the title To The South of Things. Currently, Marie Marazita is working on the French translation. A new edition in Italian accompanied by an audiobook with the voice of the actress Aurora Cancian is under way by Lebeg editions, as is e-book with the English translation made by Giuseppe Villella.
e-mail: info@pasqualinobongiovanni.it web: www.pasqualinobongiovanni.itpublications: http://www.pasqualinobongiovanni.it/pubblicazioni/

 

 

 

Featured image: Photo by Melina Piccolo.

 

 

 

 

Tags: assimilationCalabriaCanadadiscriminationDon StangDonald StangEuropeFranco CostabileGiuseppe VillellaHelen Wickesidentityimmigrantsinternal migrationsmigrationNorthern ItalyPasqualino BongiovanniPoetryRomeSouthern Italy

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