Il cielo in me

Antonia Pozzi

 

Io non devo scordare

che il cielo

fu in me.

Tu

eri il cielo in me,

che non parlavi

mai del mio volto, ma solo

quand’io parlavo di Dio

mi toccavi la fronte

con lievi dita e dicevi:

– Sei più bella così, quando pensi

le cose buone –

Tu

eri il cielo in me,

che non mi amavi per la mia persona

ma per quel seme

di bene

che dormiva in me.

E se l’angoscia delle cose a un lungo

pianto mi costringeva,

tu con forti dita

mi asciugavi le lacrime e dicevi:

– Come potrai domani esser la mamma

del nostro bimbo, se ora piangi così? –

Tu

eri il cielo in me,

che non mi amavi

per la mia vita

ma per l’altra vita

che poteva destarsi

in me.

Tu

eri il cielo in me

il gran sole che muta

in foglie trasparenti le zolle

e chi volle colpirti

vide uscirsi di mano

uccelli

anzi che pietre

– uccelli –

e le lor piume scrivevano nel cielo

vivo il tuo nome

come nei miracoli antichi.

Io non devo scordare

che il cielo

fu in me.

E quando per le strade – avanti

che sia sera –

m’aggiro

ancora voglio

essere una finestra che cammina,

aperta, col suo lembo

di azzurro che la colma.

Ancora voglio

che s’oda a stormo battere il mio cuore

in alto

come un nido di campane.

E che le cose oscure della terra

non abbiano potere

altro – su me,

che quello di martelli lievi

a scandere

sulla nudità cerula dell’anima

solo

il tuo nome.

 

 

 

 

The sky in me

Antonia Pozzi

 

I must not forget

that the sky

was in me.

You

were the sky in me,

who did not speak

ever of my face, but only

when I spoke of God

you touched my brow

with gentle fingers and said:

“You are more beautiful this way, when you think

of good things”

You

were the sky in me,

who did not love me for who I was

but for that seed

of goodness

that slumbered in me.

And if the anguish of things to infinite

tears drove me,

you with strong fingers

dried my tears and said:

“How can you tomorrow be the mother

of our child, if now you cry this way?”

You

were the sky in me,

who did not love me

for my life

but for the other life

that could awaken

in me.

You

were the sky in me

the great sun that transforms

in transparent leaves the earth

and those who would hurt you

saw fly from fists

birds

instead of stones

―birds―

and their feathers drew in the live

sky your name

like in ancient miracles.

I must not forget

that the sky

was in me.

And when along streets―before

it is night―

I wander

I still want

to be a window that walks,

open, with its strip

of azure that fills it.

I still want

for the beat of my heart to be heard in flocks

on high

like a nest of bells.

And that the obscure things of the earth

have no power

other―on me,

than that of gentle mallets

drumming

on the cerulean nudity of my soul

only

your name.

 

 

Translation ©Matilda Colarossi 2020

 

 

More poems by Antonia Pozzi:

https://paralleltexts.blog/2017/08/24/antonia-pozzi/
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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