Alessandra Corbetta (Italy)

 
Alessandra Corbetta (Italy)
 
Alessandra Corbetta (http://www.alessandracorbetta.net) has a research doctorate in Sociology of Communication and Media and works as Adjunct Professor and Teaching Assistant at the LIUC – Carlo Cattaneo University.
She has taken her masters in Digital Communication and in Storytelling.
She is founder and manager of the blog Alma Poesia (http://www.almapoesia.it), a project which is entirely dedicated to Italian and international poetical language.
She cooperates with Vuela Palabra, a literary journal which is committed to spreading poetry in Spanish.
She writes for the online newspapers Gli Stati Generali and Progressonline.
Her latest publication in verse is Corpo della gioventù (Puntoacapo Editrice 2019).
 
 
PRIMO PIANO
(A Riccardo & Debbie)
 
Passano con furia di piano in piano,
la smania di raggiungere
la camera, fare quelle cose
da grandi – anche noi, ricordi?
stavamo a vent’anni su
e giù, un’apertura continua
di porte specchi passaggi
eppure lei ha quel taglio da punk
gli occhiali storti nella foto dove
tu eri ancora tu, e il gioco
credevamo fosse facile – bloccare l’ascensore,
intrecciare le mani, bastarci
 
 
 
FIRST FLOOR
(For Riccardo & Debbie)
 
With fury they move from floor to floor,
the craving for reaching
the room, doing those grown-up
things – us too, remember?
we were at twenty up
and down, a continuous opening
of doors mirrors passings
yet she has that punk cut
crooked glasses in the picture where
you were still you, and the game
we believed it easy – stop the elevator,
intertwine hands, enough one for another
 
 
 
POST SCRIPTUM
 
I corpi attendono salvezze a basso prezzo.
Le serrande chiuse per non dire è troppa luce
fanno ombra sulle voci che si accavallano
e separano il prima dal dopo.
Annuire ai consigli diversi uno dall’altro
per poco, lasciarli tacere.
Il patto stringerlo solo con i gradini delle scale.
Una settimana. Un mese, un anno. Aspettare
il dolore all’uscita con la sua
faccia pallida, le occhiaie da terrore.
Ogni dito. Ogni osso, ogni malumore
sarà dove doveva stare.
Per sopravvivere – dirà a qualcuno – ci si cambia
anche il nome
 
 
 
POST SCRIPTUM
 
The bodies await low cost salvations.
The shutters closed in order not to say there’s too much light
cast a shadow on the overlapping voices
and separate before from after.
Nodding at advice one different from the other
for a little, keep them silent.
Making an agreement only with the steps of the staircase.
A week. A month, a year. Waiting for
the pain at the exit with its
pale face, terror’s shadows under the eyes.
Every finger. Every bone, every bad mood
will be where it had to be.
To survive –someone will be told – one changes
even name
 
 
 
METROPOLITANA
 
Il tempo cerca i corpi per manifestarsi.
Sono già passate quattro ore la gialla
è a 2,5 minuti. L’amore cerca le anime,
arriverà da destra per Centrale. Occorre
aprire varchi, sperare che nessun tassello manchi
all’arco romano usato come paragone
per spiegare l’assenza di un molare.
 
(Ho scavato con le mani per ridurre lo spazio
ma appartiene ad un altro il nostro passato)
 
Ancora sei gradini cinque quattro
e le dita saranno sulla sbarra semi-calda
a riservare presenza, così tornerà quasi-vero
il giorno in cui ti dato chi ero, il giorno
dove partire era solo riconoscersi nel nome
 
 
 
UNDERGROUND RAILWAY
 
Time is in search of bodies to reveal itself.
Four hours have already passed the yellow line
is due in 2,5 minutes. Love is in search of souls
it will arrive from the right heading Central*. Passages
need to be opened, hoping no nog is missing
in the roman arch used as comparison
to explain the absence of a molar.
 
(I have dug with my hands to reduce the space
but our past belongs to somebody else)
 
Another six steps five four
and the fingers will be on the half-warm bars
saving presence, so almost-true will be again
the day I gave you who I was, the day
where leaving was only recognizing oneself by the name
 
(*Central is referring to the railway station Milano Centrale)
 
Translated by Barbara Herzog
 

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