Poem
Andrea Raos
WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE WHO KNOWS IF I EVER
When it comes to love who knows if I everloved – or if I have only plucked
four rags and a pansy
while I withered away with them.
When I was still a child, a dark-faced curly-
haired man with a large rather
flaccid jaw and an earring in his
left ear, lightly traced a St. Andrew’s
cross on my chest with a knife
smiling all the while, he seemed content to say
“be good and don’t be afraid of what
I’m doing to you now” and it was untrue “this
counts because the world is all the more
splendid and terrible, you can always find
a vet willing to bring about its birth
by parthenogenesis.”
Now I see nothingness
and I drift along, I look at a flower but
there isn’t really anything there.
© Translation: 2005, Abe Casper
WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE WHO KNOWS IF I EVER
Quanto all’amare chi lo sa se ho mai
amato – o se soltanto ho colto
quattro stracci e una viola del pensiero
mentre appassivo piano anch’io.
Da bambino un uomo scuro in faccia, riccioli
abbondanti e la mascella larga, un poco
flaccida, un orecchino alla
sinistra mi tracciò coltello al petto
la croce lieve a sant’andrea
e sorrideva molto, sembrava contento nel dirmi
“sei bravo che con quello che ti faccio adesso
non hai paura” – e non era vero – “conta
questo perché tanto più splendido
e terribile è il mondo, vedrai sempre
un veterinario disposto a farlo nascere
per partenogenesi.”
Adesso vedo il niente
e lascio andare, guardo un fiore ma
dietro non c’e proprio niente.
amato – o se soltanto ho colto
quattro stracci e una viola del pensiero
mentre appassivo piano anch’io.
Da bambino un uomo scuro in faccia, riccioli
abbondanti e la mascella larga, un poco
flaccida, un orecchino alla
sinistra mi tracciò coltello al petto
la croce lieve a sant’andrea
e sorrideva molto, sembrava contento nel dirmi
“sei bravo che con quello che ti faccio adesso
non hai paura” – e non era vero – “conta
questo perché tanto più splendido
e terribile è il mondo, vedrai sempre
un veterinario disposto a farlo nascere
per partenogenesi.”
Adesso vedo il niente
e lascio andare, guardo un fiore ma
dietro non c’e proprio niente.
© 2003, Andrea Raos
From: Aspettami, dice
Publisher: Pieraldo,
From: Aspettami, dice
Publisher: Pieraldo,
Poems
Poems of Andrea Raos
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WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE WHO KNOWS IF I EVER
When it comes to love who knows if I everloved – or if I have only plucked
four rags and a pansy
while I withered away with them.
When I was still a child, a dark-faced curly-
haired man with a large rather
flaccid jaw and an earring in his
left ear, lightly traced a St. Andrew’s
cross on my chest with a knife
smiling all the while, he seemed content to say
“be good and don’t be afraid of what
I’m doing to you now” and it was untrue “this
counts because the world is all the more
splendid and terrible, you can always find
a vet willing to bring about its birth
by parthenogenesis.”
Now I see nothingness
and I drift along, I look at a flower but
there isn’t really anything there.
© 2005, Abe Casper
From: Aspettami, dice
From: Aspettami, dice
WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE WHO KNOWS IF I EVER
When it comes to love who knows if I everloved – or if I have only plucked
four rags and a pansy
while I withered away with them.
When I was still a child, a dark-faced curly-
haired man with a large rather
flaccid jaw and an earring in his
left ear, lightly traced a St. Andrew’s
cross on my chest with a knife
smiling all the while, he seemed content to say
“be good and don’t be afraid of what
I’m doing to you now” and it was untrue “this
counts because the world is all the more
splendid and terrible, you can always find
a vet willing to bring about its birth
by parthenogenesis.”
Now I see nothingness
and I drift along, I look at a flower but
there isn’t really anything there.
© 2005, Abe Casper
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