Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

into the dugout basements of hospitals
and with ill will.
It=s not yet July
not yet heated dried absolute
the seed.
to VP.
Fortini/Ferrarelli 55
The Education
Of wax and of cypress
the scents, and of varnish, of mordant: in this way
trembling I guided the boy I was
through galleries and museums.
Chained within those silences
I learned the frightening
slaughters of the senses, relished
the screams of the defeated angels. The blissful
golden goddesses tipped
their giant wombs, unhappy myself
I adored Niobe’s daughters
immolated in the marble.
The bright blue February
ripped the den’s smoke
on the sterilized roofs.
I heard mocking whistles, crazy howlings
from lives beyond the reach
of Via Ghibellina, Via della Mattonaia.
Evening bit my cheeks,
my mouth, and burning I leaped.
The present
I watch the water, the reeds
of a river branch, and the sun
in the water.
I watched, I was but am.
The muck dries between the roots.
My verb is in the present.
This world residue of conflagrations
wants to exist.
Insects set traps