Categoria: nature poetry

  • Prima & Vera / First & True

    Prima & Vera / First & True

    Italiano (English below):

    La primavera è arrivata,
    nonostante tutto il male
    che sta impazzando sulla Terra.
    Però la scorgo solamente
    nei fiori sui balconi;
    sul suolo nient’altro,
    che petali di plastica
    e mozziconi.
    Colate di catrame
    han sostituito l’erba.
    Vorrà dire che alzerò lo sguardo
    per veder passare la primavera.


    English:

    Spring has arrived,
    despite all the evil
    raging across the Earth.
    Yet I only glimpse it
    in the flowers on balconies;
    on the ground, nothing more
    than plastic petals
    and cigarette butts.
    Tar spills
    have replaced the grass.
    I suppose I'll lift my gaze
    to watch the spring pass.

  • La Pioggia Nella Città / Rain In The City

    La Pioggia Nella Città / Rain In The City

    Italiano (English below):

    Oggi piove.
    Non sulle soglie del bosco
    ma su un mare di asfalto;
    non sulle tamerici
    ma dentro ai tombini.
    Niente ginepri né mirti,
    soltanto muri e palazzi,
    che, da gran prepotenti,
    occludono gli orizzonti.

    Non piove sui pini
    bensì sui lampioni,
    dritti righelli
    con cui il vento traccia
    gocciolanti trattini.
    Piove sui nostri volti,
    che però non son silvani,
    ma, offuscati dal pallore,
    e illuminati dal grigiume.

    Apriamo tutti l’ombrello
    se no ci sciogliamo.
    Chiusi nelle autovetture,
    immersi in tutt’altro
    che freschi pensieri;
    fortemente sperando
    che le ore seguenti
    fossero ormai già
    un affare di ieri.
        
    English:

    Today it is raining.
    Not at the edge of the woods,
    but over a sea of asphalt;
    not on the tamarisks,
    but into the city drains.
    No junipers, nor myrtles,
    only walls and buildings,
    that, arrogantly,
    obstruct the horizons.

    It does not rain on pines trees,
    but on lampposts instead,
    upright rulers
    with which the wind sketches
    dripping dashes.
    It does rain on our faces,
    which, however, are not sylvan,
    but, blurred in pallor,
    and lit by grayness.

    We all open umbrellas,
    or we melt away.
    Sealed in our cars,
    immersed in all
    but fresh thoughts;
    fervently hoping
    that the hours ahead
    were already now
    a matter of yesterday.
  • (Be)Longing

    (Be)Longing

    I can’t keep up,
    time runs too fast.

    Leaves sprouting,
    turn verdant green,
    then yellow and crinkly
    without me noticing.

    I’m always too busy
    earning my wages.

    Life feels like a pity
    when it’s nothing more
    than sterile labour,
    a matter of functionality.

    I viscerally need
    all my senses pleased.

    I want to run in fields
    with bare feet,
    feeling the earth
    beneath me.
  • First Encounter With Aurora

    First Encounter With Aurora

    Oh, Aurora,
    how many people
    keep chasing you?
    It is a riddle
    when your show is due.

    Aurora, kaboom!
    A green light!
    Is it really you,
    this fiery kite
    in the deep blue?

    Shy Aurora,
    behind a thin veil
    made out of mist,
    as a first date
    I got the gist.

    Aurora, alas,
    I must say goodbye
    as day makes way
    and away you die.
    We’ll meet again

    somewhere,
    sometime.
  • A Walk To Uunisaari

    A Walk To Uunisaari

    There are no ships 
    in this harbour
    in this toned-down,
    muffled season.

    Water half frozen,
    as a distant flame 
    lights a sauna
    with a red haze.

    Like life made small,
    concentrated,
    shrinking into a spore,
    to resist the cold.

    Merely dimmed
    but not dead,
    ready to blaze 
    as is spring again.

    A picture suspended
    in space and time,
    a souvenir
    for my inner eye.

  • Botanical Garden

    Botanical Garden

    I see green,
    herbaceous-scented,
    aromatic,
    warm and humid,
    welcoming.

    Exotic plants
    high as the ceiling,
    towering over me,
    modest meat 
    aged for 36 years.

  • On A Bench At Kaisaniemi Park

    On A Bench At Kaisaniemi Park

    A white, calm scene, 
    unsaturated.
    Birds sliding on the ice, 
    slippery.
    Rolling trains noise behind,
    soothing.
    A freezing wind, 
    softly speaking.
    My senses gently caressed, 
    never assaulted.
    My inside is at peace 
    with the outside, and I 
    become one with the sight, 
    the sound, the scent,
    the touch so gelid.
    I am part of it 
    and it is part of me,
    perfectly balanced,
    homeostatic.
    No pressure to achieve 
    or to appear,
    just be in this place and time,
    here and now 
    and nothing more, 
    in the chilling cold.
    My take on Dolce Vita,
    man and nature 
    entwined.