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from L’Allegria by Giuseppe Ungaretti Mariano il 27 June 1916 Cammina cammina ho ritrovato il pozzo d’amore Nell’occhio di mill’una notte ho riposato Agli abbandonati giradini ella spprodava come una colomba Fra l’aria del...

from L’Allegria by Giuseppe Ungaretti Versa il 22 maggio 1916 Balaustrate di brezza per sppoggiare stasera la mia malinconia   TONIGHT Balustrades of breezes blow tonight to support my...

from L’Allegria by Giuseppe Ungaretti Versa il 21 maggio 1916 Il cuore ha prodigato le lucciole s’e aceso e spento di verdi in verde ho compitato Colle mie mani plasma il suolo diffuse di frilli mi modulo di sommeso uguale cuore...

from L’Allegria by Giuseppe Ungaretti Versa il 27 aprile 1916 Nel molle giro di un sorriso ci sentiamo legare da un turbine di germogli di desiderio Ci Vendemmia il sole Chiudiamo gli occhi per vedere nuotare in un lago infinite...

There may have been flowers–impatiens or roses–flowers with welcoming colors. I don’t remember. Memory is painted grey because color didn’t stop my appraisal of their foreclosure. I entered the drive and listened as...

I live for the hunt chasing dreams racing goals. Blue haze, orange desires never knowing the wherefore. My fingers curl around the sun pulling down fire from the sky. Burning, blinding grail of life. I seek green youth of dawn....

I No Longer Hear You Sing, Mother Of Mine Today is a day like no other – bonds shatter into dust. I lost you to the sheering wind – ashes loft on high. You no longer sing out of tune to me, evoking memories of...

Lockdown is known to me from my birth. Since I came, I never opened the door on my own. So, I have no fear about it. I have a habit of being locked down. Quarantine is known to me from my birth. Since I came, they treated me...

Soon you will be gone. Not an airport good-bye, you off to a European concert, sheet music in your satchel, university sticker worn beyond recognition. Not an overnight to a piano master class, not even a short trip to the...

How much we do forget past deeds, those thousand little deaths. Too painful to remember each, we sculpture shibboleths, subtract hard syllables, eschew harsh words, the burden of regret. Invent mere slogans, mottos, only...