Translated from the French by Patrick Williamson 

Image used for representation.

what is happiness
              if not a few moments

to live with a heart that soars
to dance whatever the music is
to bathe in the arms of pure water

                to sense the quivering of skin
                eyes that meet your gaze

and that unmistakable whisper 

***

tell me
              that it’s possible

your eyes
              more intense
              this strange sadness gone

your face less defeated
             (I so want to hold it in my
hands)
               alone with you in a little corner
of the universe,
feeling your body talk under my caresses

your eyes lost to view
             melting in your arms

(is this the effect of such a long absence?)

***

tell me you are there somewhere
             it doesn’t matter where
             that I roamed your memory 

tell me you are in China
that a strange figure is chasing you

waiting, always waiting
              rapt in love

and this silence that remains
               this odd feeling yet so strong

how can one express this tidal wave
              without gesture, or contact?

              “The Lord already gave it back to me.”
confirmation in your head
             nothing clear nothing candid

and here I am waiting for you,
waiting for you, je t’en prie
je t’en prie, don’t take your time 

***

take me into your universe
            maybe there will be
                         less spite
                                   less resentment

and maybe, more craziness
                      more flowers and forests

       and openness, an opening
       understanding

have you got this sharing
            this periwinkle Sunday
            in your stratosphere?

have you got
           this blue this yellow this angel red
                         in your lovesphere?

if you go on a trip, please
           take me into your photosphere 

***

Come, into my thoughts
             my ideas my rainforests

Come, to my skin
             my eye, my breast

Come, into my mazes
             my hair

Come
          come
                    come
                              into my core

 Also, read Italian poetry written by Edoardo Olmi, translated into English by Anna Aresi, and published in The Antonym: 

From ‘Scalene Seasons’— Edoardo Olmi

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