I have been called by this urge to write in Italian.
The ability to write in different languages awakens peculiar sensations, the unmistakable bliss of traveling to boundless spaces never visited, omnipresent in the imaginary realm. Life felt through a different skin. Another universe ingrained in my bones. The musicality of one language is almost always lost in translation. I tried my best to offer an English rendition, knowing that what I feel in Italian is a much deeper well of marvel, the rhythm of a enchanting dance in time.
Sperando di trovare nei tuoi occhi un scintillio appena nato, N.
un viso perduto nell’oblio
anima esangue
respiro affannato in
una radura ormai ignara nel tempo
cipressi vedovi ascoltano un arrivo stranito
passi folgoranti,
un cuore mai amato,
scappa dai tuoni di una casa grigia e spenta,
logora di pianto soffocato
ritrovarsi è un attimo cancellato,
piedi che fuggono dal frastuono
di un campanile allarmato
che tintinna all’ira di un dio mal accompagnato.
donna diversa,
una solitaria creatura dal viso d’amianto
cera al barlume di una sera non più ringiovanita,
attendono impazienti le more
una primavera che tarda
memoria cauta, sconfinata
tremor
a face buried in oblivion
a bloodless soul
frenzied breathing in
a clearing now unaware of time
widowed cypresses listen to a weary arrival
lightning footsteps,
a heart never loved,
fleeing from the thunders of a grey, faded house,
worn down by stifled tears
to find oneself is a moment wiped out,
feet fleeing from the din
of an alarmed bell tower
that clangs with the wrath of a wayward god.
a woman like no other,
a solitary creature with an asbestos face
wax in the glimmer of an evening no longer rejuvenated,
blackberries wait impatiently
for a spring that is long overdue
a cautious memory,
limitless
Thank you for reading! ❤️
© Nimila, Studio Shyama
If you felt something, you’re welcome to restack a passage or two that stayed with you.
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termination shock
Flames saturate the lungs. The umbilical cord was not cut gently. Impatient woman runs behind an oracle prediction. Reason fails to compensate for magic. Existential inertia.
wolves come at night
the wildest nights were not fairytales. the abyss keeps widening, and you keep falling into the void that is eating you alive. right under your solar plexus. breathwork fails. an oxygen mask for a lifetime would make more sense. born with your mother clenching jaws, it stays in your cellular memory.
Bello! - thank you. Your verses brought to mind the Lucio Battisti song Mi Ritorni in Mente.
(also why does amianto sound so much better that asbestos?)
„a solitary creature with an asbestos face” - incredible line x