Archivi tag: poetry

Let me



Let me

be like cats

so proud of themselves


in a thick grass


from milk and mouses


in a handful of red leaves

fallen down (it was night when they fell)

to the ground

and yet

so closed

to the ceiling of sky

to the cloudy curtain ahead

Let me

be like those

who bring the bread

when needed

and fill the water bowl

outside the door

Let me


my very own recipe

my aim

my body’s song

I want to be

like cats when



when finding

positive vibes there

where no one can stand

and watch them


in the deep silence of their breath

in the cold air

over a circle of hope

A possibility now


in the bottom of a fear






Gabriel Olearnik, traduzione di Federica Galetto

Traduzione di testi scelti dal libro “Amor de Lonh” di Gabriel Olearnik

Andromache Books, Londra, 2009

Edizioni Kolibris

Gabriel Olearnik è di origini polacche, cresciuto in Inghilterra ha frequentato i suoi studi a Londra. La sua formazione comprende studi di letteratura medioevale e storia. Il suo lavoro è apparso su Dappled Things ( (Pushcart Prize nominee) ed è stato adattato per una performance musicale dal compositore classico Premyslaw Salomonski .

Pubblicato dalla casa editrice Andromache Books di Londra (, nel panorama della poesia internazionale questo libro si distingue raccogliendo in sé una particolare vena di raffinatezza e profondità. Sradicata da una contemporaneità spesso carica di brutture stilistiche e contenuti troppo legati a un realismo d’effetto , la poetica di Olearnik nuota nel mare dell’Alchimia e dei grandi Misteri esistenziali e filosofici come l’Amore, la Morte, la Trasformazione fisica e psichica dell’Uomo, la Passione e il Pensiero, la Bellezza (“The last pagan”, “Acid and optics”).
Lo stile elegante, lirico, epico, dagli accenti stilistici di un Medioevo…

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Magic in the Backyard

wind waves like
stirring beyond
breaking the loud silence
as they begin
rushing towards me
as the pines
rip against them
a hiccupped breath
and a slight lift of my hair
an interlude
as they pass by
over the bare field
before onward
through the treeline
they’re gone
wandering and searching
for another
lone dweller
to whisp aware
to nudge them from
that place
while I say goodbye
and return
to be with you

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Welcome spring

Church at Troutbeck, Lake District, Cumbria, England

Church at Troutbeck, Lake District, Cumbria, England


There were so many pink flowers

on the crab apple bush


many yellow hands on the grass

peeking out

Although the sun hid


all those vague clouds

Life was less grey that day

whispering a secret

of joy and dismay


Christina Rossetti


This mild glow of light


art@Lucy Hardie



This mild glow of light

And my rush upon it

Seeking treasures where the sky


Over the lurking joint of a sorrow

Blinding rows of prayers

settling in me, poor naked creature

I, splendid sight of seagulls

I dare

beyond my pains

Black deep craters of indulgence

My non existant costraint

And you talking the language I knew

when the sun was at the zenith

and every stone under my feet was

a pillow full of joy

a listening skill

playing a song just for you

(I slept downstairs tonight

and you were not there)