Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Umberto Fiori

CHINNING

If someone in the street
shouts at me: “What was that you said?”,
stops his motorbike, gets off, runs to catch me,
puts his claws on my collar,
it means they don’t fall into the void
when someone says them, the words
somewhere are heard.

I’m seen then: I am not invisible.
I’m not alone, if my head-buttings
find a chin. If the face is sore
and the teeth taste of blood
then it’s true: there is a place
where all of us are present.

And it is there that every moment
I wait for you.

KIN

Als iemand op straat
mij toeschreeuwt: “Wat zei je?”,
zijn motor stilzet, afstapt, naar mij toe rent,
me bij mijn kraag grijpt,
besef ik dat ze toch niet vruchteloos zijn,
de woorden die wij zeggen:
ergens worden ze gehoord.

Ik word gezien. Ik ben niet transparant.
Ik ben niet alleen, als mijn kopstoot
een kin vindt. Als het voorhoofd pijn doet
en de tanden naar bloed smaken,
is het waar: er is een plaats
waar wij allemaal bestaan.

Daar zal ik elk moment
op jullie wachten.

MENTO

Se qualcuno per strada
mi grida: “Che cos\'hai detto?”,
ferma la moto, scende, mi corre incontro,
mi branca per il colletto,
vuol dire che non cadono nel vuoto
quando uno le dice, le parole:
da qualche parte si sentono.

Mi si vede: non sono trasparente.
Non sono solo, se le mie testate
trovano un mento. Se la faccia fa male
e i denti sanno di sangue
allora è vero: c\'è un posto
dove tutti siamo presenti.

È lì  che ogni momento
io vi aspetto.
Close

CHINNING

If someone in the street
shouts at me: “What was that you said?”,
stops his motorbike, gets off, runs to catch me,
puts his claws on my collar,
it means they don’t fall into the void
when someone says them, the words
somewhere are heard.

I’m seen then: I am not invisible.
I’m not alone, if my head-buttings
find a chin. If the face is sore
and the teeth taste of blood
then it’s true: there is a place
where all of us are present.

And it is there that every moment
I wait for you.

CHINNING

If someone in the street
shouts at me: “What was that you said?”,
stops his motorbike, gets off, runs to catch me,
puts his claws on my collar,
it means they don’t fall into the void
when someone says them, the words
somewhere are heard.

I’m seen then: I am not invisible.
I’m not alone, if my head-buttings
find a chin. If the face is sore
and the teeth taste of blood
then it’s true: there is a place
where all of us are present.

And it is there that every moment
I wait for you.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère