Journal of Italian Translation

Barbara Carle / Alfredo De Palchi
You die of the death
that pursues you with the conversion primer
to wipe out of your mind mad with light
the satan who presses you
to console yourself with prayers
that not even the lord hears—
You offer yourself the immolation of history
useless for any parable
and I waste writings that tell
of physical shame,
of passion for the image pierced by spines
and nails,
by a spear that breaks his ribs,
and of imitating the partial invention of the affair
by throwing a vinegar soaked sponge
to the carpenter who transmutes himself from magician
to the son of god.
(28 April, 2004)
85