Erminia Passannanti (Three poems translated by Michael Pickering)
Erminia Passannanti (Three poems translated by Michael Pickering) year 2000 "Dawn" I had an upturned cart tonight On the ridge of dawn From which there rolled downhill Sacks of grain Against an orange sun, the mule Had pulled himself up on his hooves And went head bent limping Down the bright line of day. I pick up At the foot of the ridge A screaming sack, unloose My corset, offer him my nipple. "Valì" You go about like a nymphet, wrapped in your tinyness with garlands, ribbons of paper and baskets, or in the manner of a futurist princess, projected into roseate distances so present and yet so inaccessible with your limpid eyes and gestures and little speeches whispered to yourself alone pattering on my high heels through the rooms, a little sweet, a little haughty, like a goddess, neat in your neat light: six years, comet, my comet, you trailing behind your smiles my golden hopes as you trail your veil. "Isolde. Or the misadventure of existing" ** A...