Poems by Marlene Pasini
In the churchyard shadow
sadness olive groves of mount sion
everything is still memory groove crack
where it sprouts in silence
the sore earth a path barely reverberates
Among memories that murmur
his pale tessitura
Towards a city that slow
Dawn and shelter
under the scent of olive trees
Away from the night
You go round invisible roads,
the wind is the homeland that crushed you with its wings of indulgence,
air reefs for the sea that crashes its lament
on the night of your dream.
Gravita fog, its glow against your face,
the glass where you glimpse the bottom of yesterday,
the remains of a time without time in the trembling of your visions.
What walls knock down your voice in the stealth of the night?
That distance that falls like a curtain between emptiness and memory
burning of the days.
What emissary light would you summon from the insomniac garden, under the stones
that protect the color of the eneidas?
Like rumor of fable,
rising flame in the desert doorway,
you look in a smoke mirror
and you are the smoke itself that burns on the other side of the huge tunnel;
vertigo flavored with pale tide,
silent water where you anchored the tree of your mysterious shadow.
You ask at dawn to tear its light
where loneliness is the customary rite
under the dust of the centuries,
you drink your cup of fear under the salt of the omens,
the most hidden room in the warp that machine destiny.
And you came to melt in the silence little by little,
to be the blade that hits indifferently,
a body of mist submerged in its Orion of dry chill,
with your morning wrapped in still bubble,
last echo of passing sand.
The season of nostalgia weighs on you,
the gray dementia of the storm rotting in the dark mouth of the earth.
Who do you cry for this abyss?
Mutilated song of crows that pierce the deep sky.