🇮🇹 La donna nell’ombra

Non parlava,
ma il silenzio le faceva da voce.

Camminava tra gli sguardi
senza farsi vedere,
eppure, chiudevi gli occhi…
e lei era lì.

Un velo di mistero
le copriva il volto,
ma negli occhi c’era la memoria
di un mondo perduto.

Portava nei gesti
la grazia di chi ha conosciuto la luce
e ha scelto di restare nell’ombra…
per custodirla.

Nessuno sapeva da dove venisse,
ma il suo passaggio lasciava fiori
là dove prima c’era polvere.

Era la voce che non giudica,
la carezza che non chiede,
la presenza che non pretende.

Chi l’ha incontrata
non l’ha mai dimenticata.

Perché la Donna nell’Ombra
non si mostra per essere vista,
ma per risvegliare
chi guarda con il cuore.

— Masi Roberto © 2025


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🇬🇧 The Woman in the Shadow

She did not speak,
yet silence was her voice.

She walked among gazes
without being seen,
and still, when you closed your eyes…
she was there.

A veil of mystery
covered her face,
but in her eyes lived the memory
of a lost world.

Her gestures carried
the grace of one who had known the light
and chose to remain in the shadows…
to guard it.

No one knew where she came from,
yet her passing left flowers
where once there was only dust.

She was the voice that does not judge,
the caress that does not ask,
the presence that does not demand.

Those who met her
never forgot.

For the Woman in the Shadow
does not reveal herself to be seen,
but to awaken
those who look with the heart.

— Masi Roberto © 2025

Do not be afraid
just like a walk in the park
a Haiku's nature

...I couldn't help but to stare blankly at your white, emotionless face...

The last time I saw you... You had a light full of joy and grace...

But to see that light now gone from you body left a taste of melancholy

A hood of sorrows is what hid my bitter sweet tears from them and you, what folly...

Before my aching heart could leave your presence, your eyes opened...

Your heart startled by a hug, your eyes gazed around at all of us, an opportunity, I was hope'n

You stared straight into my black stained waterfall and spooked me

When your pale, cold hand, with quickness, grabbed my hand.. and begged me not to leave..

It shook... I could feel and count every bone you used... with the little muscle strength you had...

My body trembled at your white, thin, Skeleton hand... Stabbed by the reality of loss...the insecurity was bad..

I felt so troubled and helpless... Since there was nothing from me you could gain...

"Alan...Linard...." was the last thing I heard, the last thing she said... it was her husband's name...

6 days later... 9:15pm, July 2nd, 2018...for the first time... I watched Some breath their last... and finally die...

Puzzled by how quick and peaceful a painful image thing can be.... It felt so deceitfully wrong... but I knew it was..right..

Donna... You wouldn't come back... even if you could.. you wouldn't

You in a place of paradise... pure perfection... I wont lie... I miss you.. but I know you could never return... you couldn't..

There Was A Kind Poet Called Donna,
With pieces as vintage as the Madonna;
She had a thing for nature's Echo
Decoded in her magnificent Haiku
That unforgettable Poet called Donna.