Archivi categoria: poesia in inglese


Lizzie Riches

art@Lizzie Riches



I’m hidden inside of  you

and my orchard hangs there

where we don’t need to argue



I’m your lover forever (and ever)

now that you know that

the sky is nearer

and the joy grows

every day under my skin and my tongue

Linger baby, linger

hold me tight ‘till

I’m  melted

I’m outrageously gorgeous

and happy


‘cause I feel you need me

more than the air you breathe

Linger my love,

I’m so scared you leave

please, have faith in love

never be sad

never be sorry

Mind you,

keep some

rasperries for the sunny days

I belong to



Hush, linger now and forever

My orchard is brightly rich of myself

and fruits of our deep passion

Linger because I’m diamond


your cup of tea

(do you know you make me cry)

(do you know you make me die)

Linger, my sweetheart

the moon is here to stay

and the leaves never be aside

‘cause you’re my roof

my home

and flooding soul




Emily Dickinson, poesia n° 419

We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When Light is put away –
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Good bye –

A Moment – We uncertain step
For newness of the night –
Then – fit our Vision to the Dark –
And meet the Road – erect –

And so of larger – Darknesses –
Those Evenings of the Brain –
When not a Moon disclose a sign –
Or Star – come out – within –

The Bravest – grope a little –
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead –
But as they learn to see –

Either the Darkness alters –
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight –
And Life steps almost straight.


Ci abituiamo al buio
Quando la luce è messa via
Come quando la vicina sorregge la lampada
A testimoniare il suo arrivederci
Un momento – il nostro passo è incerto
per la novità della notte
Poi adattiamo la Vista al buio
e incontriamo la strada – eretti
E così è per tenebre più vaste
Quelle notti della mente
in cui neppure la luna manda un segno
O una stella appare – dentro
I più coraggiosi brancolano un poco
e talvolta picchiano contro un albero
In piena fronte
ma imparano così a vedere
Che sia l’oscurità ad alterarsi
o qualcosa nella vista
Che si adatta alla mezzanotte
E la vita quasi cammina diritta

Freezing days




Freezing days


My church

A disadorned One

A lost bless

A shame

Winter knows

Where I am going to

The last time I saw

My mother was a long

Time ago

When she still cracked

Nuts with her teeth

When her smile was a

Diamond ring

Shining over me

And love seemed to argue

With our blood tie


Like a wool jumper on the

Naked skin

You lay 

I pray

Christmas doesn’t know

I feel bad

for the lack

Of fire in your eyes




art@Federica Nightingale



The white dove of winter
sheds its first
fine feathers;
they melt

as they touch
the warm ground
like notes
of a once familiar

music; the earth
shivers and
turns towards
the solstice. ”—

Linda Pastan, from “The Months”


La bianca colomba d’inverno
perde le sue prime
belle piume;
si sciolgono
al tocco
del tiepido suolo
come note d’una musica
una volta familiare;
la terra rabbrividisce
e si volta verso il solstizio

(trad. F.Galetto)

Grace Paley: qualche verso,una traduzione



Somewhere between Greenfield and Holyoke
snow became rain
and a child passed through me
as a person moves through mist
as the moon moves through
a dense cloud at night
as though I were cloud or mist
a child passed through me


In qualche luogo fra Greenfield e Holyoke
la neve trasmutò in  pioggia
e un bambino mi passò attraverso
come una persona si sposta nella nebbia
come la luna che si muove trapassando
una densa nube la notte
come se io fossi nube o nebbia
un bambino mi passò attraverso

(Trad. F. Galetto)
Grace Paley – In the bus – from Begin Again Collected Poems – Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2000