Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Antonella Anedda

That which remains of love

There was much in that dawn, in that hotel, in the paper
that revealed the hard water of the wall and ceiling.
Everything, perhaps the meaning of the world
was in her sob
with the back of her neck banging against the bed
and in the gesture of him
wrapping her breasts in the sheet.

Outside the day grew
unnatural, like the metal stem of the lamp
long shaken with rage
when the other’s body was more alone.

Quello che dell’amore resta

Quello che dell’amore resta

Molto era in quell’alba, in quell’albergo, nella carta
che mostrava l’acqua dura del muro e del soffitto.
Tutto, forse il senso del mondo
era nel singhiozzo di lei
con la nuca che batteva contro il letto
e nel gesto di lui
che le avvolgeva i seni nel lenzuolo.

Fuori cresceva il giorno
innaturale, come lo stelo di ferro della lampada
scosso a lungo con ira
quando il corpo dell’altro era più solo.
Close

That which remains of love

There was much in that dawn, in that hotel, in the paper
that revealed the hard water of the wall and ceiling.
Everything, perhaps the meaning of the world
was in her sob
with the back of her neck banging against the bed
and in the gesture of him
wrapping her breasts in the sheet.

Outside the day grew
unnatural, like the metal stem of the lamp
long shaken with rage
when the other’s body was more alone.

That which remains of love

There was much in that dawn, in that hotel, in the paper
that revealed the hard water of the wall and ceiling.
Everything, perhaps the meaning of the world
was in her sob
with the back of her neck banging against the bed
and in the gesture of him
wrapping her breasts in the sheet.

Outside the day grew
unnatural, like the metal stem of the lamp
long shaken with rage
when the other’s body was more alone.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
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