Domenico Pisana (Italy)

Domenico Pisana (Italy)

 

Born in Modica in 1958, Doctor of Moral Theology, he is the founder and President of the Quasimodo Coffee Cafe in Modica.
Poet, literary critic and essayist with several works translated entirely into Polish, Spanish, Romanian and English, he published 9 volumes of poetry, 6 books of literary criticism, among which stands the essay on Quasimodo That Nobel from the South – Salvatore Quasimodo between glory and oblivion, translated, in 2011, in Romanian.
He also published 11 texts of a theological and ethical nature, among which the volume, published by San Paolo editions, stands out.
On your word I will throw the networks, translated into Polish and Spanish, as well as “3 volumes of historical-political character. In 2006 the Municipal Administration and the Pro Loco of Modica awarded him the Gold Medal of the “Premio della Modicanità”; nominated for several awards, in November 2016 he was awarded the “Premio Federico II” to culture; in January 2017 he received the “European FARFA Prize” for culture and territory, awarded to him by the International Association of Literary Critics based in Paris; in September 2017 he was awarded the “Magister Vitae” Prize for the contribution to culture in San Vito Lo Capo (Trapani) as part of the 5th Edition of the Vito Ruggiriello Memorial.
Of the works of Pisana we report only those translated into Polish, Spanish, Romanian and English: Na twojw slowa zarzuce sieci, Polish edition 1999, 4K PHUP Sp.z.o.o., Bytom, Poland, 1999; En tu palabra echaré las redes, San Pablo, Santafe De Bogota, D.C., 1999; Acel Nobel venit din South. Salvatore Quasimodo intre glorie siui tare, Iunimea, Iasi, Bucharest, 2011; Odes tho the twelve lands.
A stringed wind from the Ibleans, Armando Siciliano Editore, Messina, 2016.

 

It requires a spiritual tectonic

There is an asphyxiating ideological smell
who raises the cup and breathes suspicion
in the weak consumption of thought

it often turns water into wine
in the huts of silence stretched out
at the top of the built dome

from freedom it sows shadow clouds
between the game of vassals and valvassors
crouched down on the stools of dark hands

there is no field outraged by wild rice
poison dissolved in the lanes of destinies
which destroys the dream of a stunned country

Strength requires spiritual tectonics
to go beyond cannibal metaphysics
to kill the enemy by rediscovering the face

to go up the edge of the Golgolta where the Giusto
said that nobody can throw stones
that death will succumb to the wing of victory.

 

Hermitage of nocturnal thoughts

Beyond the hillthat caresses the sunsets
I relax in the sound of your voice;
motionless it feeds of infinity
on pages of stone waiting for the night.

Hermitage of nocturnal thoughts,
please guard the soul of my troubles
in the hour that closes the windows
to the game of life, to the beating of the water
on the thrill of winning without medals.

Another story: we start again on the double of a ship
crawling under the swing of chairs,
angels of light will tear in the mud
and confused complaints will come knocking again
to the starsamong gusts of creep.

I have nothing but you to feel myself,
to write cold amazements on flying sheets
to drag syllables onto pieces of paper, subtract me
to the contention of words that made the planeta
a passage of dead left aside.

 

Translated by Claudia Piccinno

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