Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Massimo Morasso

I thought about the life I’d like to have.

I thought about the life I’d like to have.
Not unlike this one.
Or maybe not.
                More whirly,
                                 more rigorous
in its upward lunge.
Now that I’m able to see the ghosts
and my mind pursues the ways of prophets,
and the greatest depth is a gift that suddenly
shines out, just like that, 
         into the appearance of things,
         into the hieroglyphics of sense,
and me, not knowing how to say it, that sense
because of the lack of light,
                                    of names
                                                   of gods
and thus, in short, of vision –
                           now I confess that it’s ok,
                           that time has done its job,
                           smoothing me,
now that I circle like a hawk
around the shell that I am.

I am a mollusk.

I thought about the life I’d like to have.

Ho pensato alla vita che vorrei.
Non diversa da questa.
Oppure no.
                  Più turbinosa,
                                        più rigorosa
nel suo slancio verticale.
Ora che gli spettri li vedo
e la mia mente insegue i modi dei profeti,
e il più profondo è un dono che traspare
all’improvviso, come niente,
           nell’appararenza delle cose,
           nei geroglifici del senso ,
senza saperlo esprimere io, il senso,
per carenza di luce
                         di nomi
                                     di divinità
e dunque, in breve, di visione-
                         confesso che va bene,
                         che il tempo ha fatto il suo lavoro
                         levigandomi,
adesso che mi aggiro come un falco
intorno alla conchiglia che io sono, io

mollusco.
Close

I thought about the life I’d like to have.

I thought about the life I’d like to have.
Not unlike this one.
Or maybe not.
                More whirly,
                                 more rigorous
in its upward lunge.
Now that I’m able to see the ghosts
and my mind pursues the ways of prophets,
and the greatest depth is a gift that suddenly
shines out, just like that, 
         into the appearance of things,
         into the hieroglyphics of sense,
and me, not knowing how to say it, that sense
because of the lack of light,
                                    of names
                                                   of gods
and thus, in short, of vision –
                           now I confess that it’s ok,
                           that time has done its job,
                           smoothing me,
now that I circle like a hawk
around the shell that I am.

I am a mollusk.

I thought about the life I’d like to have.

I thought about the life I’d like to have.
Not unlike this one.
Or maybe not.
                More whirly,
                                 more rigorous
in its upward lunge.
Now that I’m able to see the ghosts
and my mind pursues the ways of prophets,
and the greatest depth is a gift that suddenly
shines out, just like that, 
         into the appearance of things,
         into the hieroglyphics of sense,
and me, not knowing how to say it, that sense
because of the lack of light,
                                    of names
                                                   of gods
and thus, in short, of vision –
                           now I confess that it’s ok,
                           that time has done its job,
                           smoothing me,
now that I circle like a hawk
around the shell that I am.

I am a mollusk.
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