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

I despair,
you respond always yellow
and look elsewhere,
may your yellow be
like the sun,
that nourishes within the nucleus
every other color
First half of June l997.
Rusnack/Piersanti 77
The Park Remained in Autumn
not long ago the season passed by
when cyclamen spread among plants
and ivy yellowed on trunks
you were wrapped in black velvet
that the butcher’s broom did not scratch
with thorny spines and red fruit
and I followed you under creepers
lost in light that leaves give off
and on through a light breeze
closed that season the ample park
rests among the meadows as in a painting
the spring is stopped that spreads its flowers
only that it was autumn-white for awhile
evening comes early, from the church bell
somber sounds reach out, air ices up
stay with me in the hour that endures
the last one and the most serene, you will see
the marigolds and the crocus turn white
dazzle even more yellow in the grass
we will climb the stairs when darkness comes
already advance the moles and the springs
we go to a room, the farthest one away
where there’s a chest we stay behind
cuddling and fine the whole night long
but then the sun will return, rise again
over the points of the giant cedars
the livid sky raced, it was getting dark
above my own body, eyes lifted up
and I didn’t feel the wind and the seasons
the windshield did not protect me from