Where is there any turning back?
What is the point of arrival that silences every gasp?
There would be no redemption.

There will be no merit or improvement,
there will be no demonstration or change, revenge and opportunity that can make you become a good person.
You may know love in the furrows of others, but not fully feel its languor.
You will be able to rejoice the moment before, and cancel yourself the moment after.

I have known death in the faces of the people I loved.
I've seen so much sacrifice fall asleep suddenly.
I've seen so many wrinkles unwind and find peace.
I feel no shame in thinking about death.
Being twenty-five years old and dealing with the earth every day.
Talk to the earth.
As if the clods could weigh on my mood.
Being old enough to do everything but becoming the shadow of nothing.
To be an inconsistent fullness of color.
Like the dark. Like black.
Be twenty-five years old. Caring about life but not enough to live it.

I wonder what the way is to leave everything behind and start again.
Without forgetting me, without forgetting them.

Then they asked me: A cosa stai pensando?
So I forgot.

I wish you would remember that moment

Without justification or transposition
Without those words

You know what I feel,
                     you know what my unspoken words say
And so that somewhere yours are reflected with mine

I just wanted to keep it
I just wanted to protect my feeling,
                                                 my warmth

I have to let you go, along with your inconsistent words
How slowly they rise and crash against the walls of the houses
Reducing what is of me to a waste matter

We're not the only ones, I think
I feel like this skin isn't fully mine
Sometimes I live the lives of others
Sometimes no one's life
I look from the outside to understand that even pain has its own lightness.
It must be understood and caressed like the most fragile crystal


My pain,
                     you put me into a wary sleep
give me the momentum, let yourself be appreciated
only then
could we find ourselves again

-

Non siamo i soli, penso
Sento che questa pelle non è pienamente la mia
A volte vivo la vita degli altri
A volte la vita di nessuno
Guardo dall'esterno per capire che anche il dolore ha una sua leggerezza.
Va compresa e accarezzata come il cristallo più fragile


Mio dolore,
                     addormentami in un sonno guardingo
dammi lo slancio, lasciati apprezzare
solo così potremmo trovarci di nuovo

The nights they leave him alone,
he breathes in the pungent smell of jasmine.

They left us the land, he thinks.
And they left us tadpoles in the ponds.

Twirling tadpoles that, in the murky waters,
he watches competing non-stop.

But it is on the large rock that the eye stops blinking.
He watches her stare, underwater and stranger,
at the fast world that surrounds her.
From the stagnant bottom. Under the blanket of moss.
Endlessly it sinks deeper and deeper. Out of the way.

And out of the pond, think about how useless speed is
if you can't see the stones at the bottom,
if you don't have the time to stop and smell the jasmine.

Mother sacrifice
Fix the white canvas in the corner
Too far away to paint
Too close for the mind that no longer knows what to say
I regret my interrupted dreams
Watch my son realizing his dreams
He paints over the melancholy
of my empty canvas

for me
           a sacrificial mother

And then in front of the mirror
I asked myself a question already asked before
What do you think?
I think it’s worth it.
Words never spoken.
The tenderness of the gaze whispered sweet words
I knew I missed them today
But if I had them with me, how much would I have enjoyed
The fullness of those words?