Carmen Moscariello (Italy)

Carmen Moscariello

Carmen Moscariello is a poet, journalist, director, teacher of Italian and Latin in high schools.

She has published about 1500 articles in sixteen years of collaboration in “Il Tempo”, she has collaborated for six years with TG3 Lazio. She is president and founder of the “Tulliola” Award at the XXIV Edition. The award was awarded a medal by the President of the Republic Giorgio Napolitano for high cultural merits. In the span of thirty years she has published about twenty works, including poetry, non-fiction, theater, among which: The Eyes search the wind; Imizad and letters to Nataschia; it is not time for the Messiah, Daughter of the moon; Oboe for transverse flute; Earth in the evening; Giordano Bruno Source of fire; Proserpina; Eleonora with beautiful hands; The lost watch; In the shadow of a heresy; The Alumbrados; Rhapsody of love; Tunnel of dreams, Synchronous Destini Amelia Rosselli and Rocco Scotellaro (a work that has achieved great success). They wrote about her works: Domenico Rea, Walter Mauro, Michele Prisco, Aldo Carotenuto; Michele Urrasio; Francesco D’Episcopo, Aldo Masullo, Ugo Piscopo and many others.

 

The ivory door

You are my little Buddha
I turn you from sleep to light
drawing in the firmament
the dream of you
sunflower of beautiful loves
Leonardo, little Buddha
and I’m happy grandma
I dance with you until dawn
tumbalalaika
at the time, tin tin tintan
from da-da-re Leonardo ta-ta-ta
I play with your silver fingers
on a cameo plane
the notes migrate, run
gallop among valleys and rivers
and I’m still a child
while I sing the gift of you.

 

Strumentum scribendi

The wait long invasive
incidences of Advent
it is the enchantment of the new light
and from that time the gaze transpires
Advent of distant stories
of new tenderness, of silent fluids
of stones in the magic of foliage
It waits suspended the advent of autumn and
the wind is silent in the arms of the fluids comets

we pass suspended

we live
the waiting in the womb sings life
the heart is clear
beats the wait
ancient odors vaporize
and I caress the tender gem
he will come, he will also come to feed
this year of joys
and light in the smoke of the fireplace.

 

If I come to look for you

Oh my past, I will join my hands
so that I can finally
drink at the sun cup to never meet you again
finally I can loose you in empty buildings
in the thick morning fog
in the sick eye of the white stone
where rests the mystery dream and some detail
in my being an ancient daughter of vagueness
for a time that is not, nor it is neither it will ever be.

 

Translated by Claudia Piccinno

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