TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN BY PATRICK WILLIAMSON
I.
the grey days are lakes
when nothing but rain
a soggy air soaks
the roots the yield of trees
without a complaint
suddenly presses
where is the water
where the water
profanes the walls
II.
among these shadows the step
is stale bread under
the crust come true
the outrage of the swamp
it is always night before
time in time
in the neck of stones
(it is always night
the gestation of light)
III.
the constellations laugh
at our glances at the heavens
at San Lorenzo
that desire
one-off of the origin
the illusion of falling
disguised by light
here laws do not measure
infinity has no shores
courage is beyond
consolation of the visible
IV.
an uninhabited body
with no door a broken roof
the shadow distracted
by water ripples
even sun on the cathedrals
timeless now
Cassandra is a precise
point at every latitude
V.
we sail by sight
among the trunks of pines
like sheer mangroves
deep in lakes
the discovery in the well
is a tomb chorus
the geomancy a chapter
filed
VI.
the idea of separation
(keeps us comfortable)
is a black lake
laps motionless feet
on the shore we deny concentric
circles the measure
the sinking of stone
double the trine
that contains
but the ego falls headlong
not burdened by detachment
in practice
the pure surface
Also, Read Selected Poems From Sovraliminale By Francesca Del Moro, Translated From The Italian By Patrick Williamson and published in The Antonym:
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