4
Some years ago you said
‘Basically I am a matter of light.’And still today when you lean
on the wide shoulders of sleep
even when they anchor you
to the drowsy breast of pelagos
you search in corners where blackness
has turned thin with no resistance
you grope for the spear
that spear destined to pierce your heart
and open it to the light.
Back to the First light, a tribute to Lawrence Ferlinghetti by Lidia Chiarelli
Light on the Walls of Life
To Lawrence Ferlinghetti for his 101st birthday
Teach me to paint
the light on the walls of life.
Teach me
to look at the world
as you see it
to become a tear of the sun
a hill of poetry
a word in a tree.
Lead me
to see the sun
hitting the sheer cliffs
the tides that restlessly ebb and flow
the water birds challenging the wind.
Let’s listen together
to the breath of rustling leaves
the perfect hush of a starry night
the sound of summer in the raindrops.
Here and now
help me reach the very shores of light
waiting for
the renaissance of wonder
with you
again and forever.
Lidia Chiarelli, Italy
ΦΩΤΙΣΕ ΤΟΥΣ ΤΟΙΧΟΥΣ ΤΗΣ ΖΩΗΣ
Δίδαξε με να ζωγραφίσω φως
στους τοίχους της ζωής
τον κόσμο να κοιτάζω
όπως κι εσύ
το δάκρυ του ήλιου να γενώ
λόφος ποιητκός
κόσμος ενός δεντρού.
Οδήγησε με
να δω τον ήλιο
να πέφετει στις πλαγιές
και στις παλλίρριες που πάνε κι έρχονται
στους γλάρους με τον άνεμο
που πολεμούν
Μαζί ν’ αφουκραστούμε ανάσες
στο θρόϊσμα των δέντρων
της πάναστρης νύχτας την τελειότητα
τον ήχο του καλοκαιριού στις στάλλες
Εδώ και τώρα βοήθα με
να βρω του ήλιου την ακρογιαλιά
να περιμένω
του θαύματος την Αναγένηση
μαζί σου
και για πάντα.
Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη//translated by Manolis Aligizakis
Lidia Chiarelli, Italy
Teacher
It was a foggy day when, like students, we entered
the school; found the teacher writing on the board
something narrating a familiar fable which we found
tasteless. The teacher welcomed us, especially the initiate,
who always inspired admiration with His graceful persona,
His stature and it was as if He led us to a garden full
of bloomed flowers, playful butterflies hanging from
threads of air, colorful spring, and the teacher repeated
to his students, ‘attention children attention, it isn’t
often that we have such a special visitor’, Übermensch
laughed and obviously pleased He said: ‘these students
are tomorrow’s Übermenschen.’
Consequence
During the farewell dinner, he and his company got
drunk (all of them less than twenty years old). Past
midnight they took the roads with the laurel bushes,
ivy, guitars, and they decapitated the statues. Come
dawn he went away to Sicily. His trial took place while
he was away. They convicted him to death; then it was
the treason too and the defeat and the prisoners who
died in the quarries (some seven thousand) and
Sparta that received him with laurels. We knew well
the bitterness hiding in his arrogance. He only
missed Athens;
and Athens missed his beauty in the Agora and in
the Arena.
The Error
He spoke eloquently using simple words slightly abstract
as it suits a master of speeches However at one point
an unforgivable mistake – that word
it should had been left out so that the deep loss the absence
would be more obvious Then of course we forgot
whether that word was the word cape or the word hammer
Dangle
An erect nipple
dangles over my lips
a game like tease or
please, now you touch me
now you don’t
an unspoiled breast
flashes the night sky
playing with my flesh
as a star loosens its footing
now you see me
now you don’t
my descent is revealed
I’M THE GARDEN
I’m a garden where flowers once bloomed
filled with the joyous chirps of birds
with secret whispers and soundless kisses
at night love walked around my shadows.
I’m a garden stuck in the same place
for many years in vain waiting for a return
and instead among the flowers I’ve been buried
in the thorns my nightingales have been silenced
and I’ve been choked by the snakes
Picture by Germain Droogenbroodt
Wait for Me
Wait for me, Time, you’re galloping too fast.
Wait for me in the pages of this endless pain of biography, in that shop of rare books, in the waters of the wild heart.
Wait for my arrival in my magisterial disguise.
Place those blindfolds back over your eyes, re-open them in that void grander than life, go re-read Rumi, that wise, far-seeing ant,
let him revolve your thoughts on a wheel of fortune, let his beliefs get lost among your own.
Wait for me, so you can comprehend in my utter silence. Since the days of childhood, there is in me
an eternal desire to have never had two hearts.
SULTANCATTO, Turkey/US
Περίμενε με, Χρόνε, τρέχεις πολύ
στις σελίδες πόνου της βιογραφίας μου
στο μαγαζί σπανίων βιβλίων, στα νερά ατίθασης καρδιάς.
Περίμενε με να εμφανιστώ με τη μαγευτική μου φορεσιά.
Δέσε τα μάτια σου, μη βλέπεις, λύσε τα, κοίταξε
το μεγαλειώδες αυτό κενό, διάβασε Ρούμι, εκείνο το σοφό
μακριά που ατενίζει μυρμηγκάκι, άστο να οδηγήσει το μυαλό σου στης τύχης τον τροχό, κι άφησε τα πιστεύω του
να μπερδευτούν με τα δικά σου.
Περίμενε με απ’ την απόλυτη σιωπή μου να με καταλάβεις
από τα παιδικά μου ήθελα δύο καρδιές να είχα
αν γινόταν.
Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη//translation by Manolis Aligizakis
SULTANCATTO, Turkey/US
Manolis Aligizakis 