Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Monica Martinelli

62

It wasn’t with unsteady beggar steps
that I reshod life as if it were mine
as if it weren’t out-of-season fruit
grown in a hothouse
lacking the awareness
of having been sown in the ground.

If I could be reborn as a tree
to feel myself grow
illumined by the sun
deepening my roots
judiciously waiting for warmth.

If I could be reborn as a flower
possessing a meaning in caducity
to loosen the threads of sorrow
and to escape all cruelty.

If I could be reborn as a leaf
to festoon branches at will
to mingle in the green
while waiting for autumn to fall.

If I could be reborn as a swallow
to thank the sky,
heedless of the hawks
and of the hostile seasons, and fly.

If I could be reborn as ice
to melt in the sun,
and not a human being
at the end of the journey
on a planet that’s dying.

But an unexpected stop
startles me
at a precipice of souls.

62

62

Non è con instabili passi di mendicante
che rincalzo la vita come fosse mia
come non fossero frutti fuori stagione
coltivati in serra
e privi della conoscenza
d’esser stati seminati in terra.
 
Potessi rinascere albero
sentirmi crescere
irradiato dal sole
affondare radici
in giudiziosa attesa di tepore.
 
Potessi rinascere fiore
avere un senso nella caducità
per allentare le maglie del dolore
e sottrarmi a qualunque crudeltà.
 
Potessi rinascere foglia
adornare rami solo per voglia
di confondermi nel verde
e aspettare l’autunno per cadere.
 
Potessi rinascere balestruccio
il cielo ringraziare
incurante di falchi
e di stagioni ostili volare.
 
Potessi rinascere ghiaccio
per sciogliermi al sole
e non un essere umano
alla fine del viaggio
su un pianeta che muore.
 
Invece una sosta inaspettata
mi sorprende
su un precipizio d’anime.
Close

62

It wasn’t with unsteady beggar steps
that I reshod life as if it were mine
as if it weren’t out-of-season fruit
grown in a hothouse
lacking the awareness
of having been sown in the ground.

If I could be reborn as a tree
to feel myself grow
illumined by the sun
deepening my roots
judiciously waiting for warmth.

If I could be reborn as a flower
possessing a meaning in caducity
to loosen the threads of sorrow
and to escape all cruelty.

If I could be reborn as a leaf
to festoon branches at will
to mingle in the green
while waiting for autumn to fall.

If I could be reborn as a swallow
to thank the sky,
heedless of the hawks
and of the hostile seasons, and fly.

If I could be reborn as ice
to melt in the sun,
and not a human being
at the end of the journey
on a planet that’s dying.

But an unexpected stop
startles me
at a precipice of souls.

62

It wasn’t with unsteady beggar steps
that I reshod life as if it were mine
as if it weren’t out-of-season fruit
grown in a hothouse
lacking the awareness
of having been sown in the ground.

If I could be reborn as a tree
to feel myself grow
illumined by the sun
deepening my roots
judiciously waiting for warmth.

If I could be reborn as a flower
possessing a meaning in caducity
to loosen the threads of sorrow
and to escape all cruelty.

If I could be reborn as a leaf
to festoon branches at will
to mingle in the green
while waiting for autumn to fall.

If I could be reborn as a swallow
to thank the sky,
heedless of the hawks
and of the hostile seasons, and fly.

If I could be reborn as ice
to melt in the sun,
and not a human being
at the end of the journey
on a planet that’s dying.

But an unexpected stop
startles me
at a precipice of souls.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère