Journal of Italian Translation

Adria Bernardi/Raffaello Baldini
it’s a quid pro quo,
which if I were to tell them my name, I’m sure,
they’d be up there looking down at me:
and you, who are you?
that’s what I wanted to say to you, who am I?
I’m nothing, I’m, let’s be honest, I’m worth less than the two of clubs,
the otitis makes my ears buzz, I can’t see well,
even with these glasses, they fell off, one of the lenses
is cracked, the one you’re talking about
is not me, who knows, maybe it looks like me,
but it’s not me, and now you’ve stopped,
now when all I want to do is throw myself on the ground,
and stay here as long as I want, I’m not asking much,
and later, if possible, a few stairs down,
toward direction of home, even there, I wouldn’t need much,
a game on t.v.
a little trip every once in awhile, I’d like to see
the Dolomites, I’ve never been there,
to go out a few nights collecting snails, if it had rained,
because I like the taste of them, a little bit of this and that, and to
keep talking,
by myself, with nothing happening,
but there’s no way they understand, they see me all right,
or aren’t they looking, where are they? who am I going to tell
that I’m here, that this is all a mistake
which has npothing to do with me.
Small Talk
I had bad dreams all night, all these snakes,
how did you make this coffee? look at this, spills,
every time it’s like this, with you
you’ve got to have someone
there with you every second, is it possible
you’re never going to learn, you’re already old,
and don’t walk on it, we need a rag here,
leave it alone, I’ll do it, with my bones aching,
listen, do you hear it, it’s eight already, I’m going out to do some
shopping.
my gosh, the sirocco, I feel it too,
my bones are aching,
Clara, is it true
that your brother has bought,
that he wants to go live at Poggio? has he gone crazy?
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