Silence from the beautiful country / Poem by Zana Coven

Poem by Zana Coven

 

Silence from the beautiful country

My Italy is dying slowly
Voiceless and no noise
Those whose stories die
We fell asleep on cold winter nights

My Italy is slowly disappearing
The one behind the embroidered tablecloths
Hands full of flour
Smiles on our youth’s face

The chine backs are disappearing
Accompanying our first steps
Who taught us the first syllables
Dry tomatoes snacks in my hands

This Italy of all smells is disappearing
Fresh basil and garlic braids
The scent of starched sheets is disappearing
Lying on the balconies of the villages

Slowly and in sacred silence
The heroes of our childhood leave
Those who gave us everything even when
There was nothing to give

And I’m silent with my breath trembling
I’m not Italy’s daughter, but I am too
She adopted me
In his warm womb he protected me

Z. C.
All right reserved

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