Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Gabriele Frasca

beach September ‘64

tonight you see your residue outlines
the tiny leak through which passes
the ocean of reproaches the drum
of debts and sales the individual
who stagnates in here where I scream
your name without echo without
it saying me to me without it saying I see
the place where I who laugh
remain fixed in the smile of the stance
not remembering the gesture nor the reason
nor the how or the exact today that does not stand
and while I prey time with time
I feel your distance in the prohibition
that drives me back here where I remain
what I was for you along the leak
through which I pass and pass again and the very guilt
surfaces for which I sing and cry
as if I were at the bottom of the ladder
and did not feel the blow of the shovel
that makes me father of my father and stamp
that imitates yours with no hope left

spiaggia settembre del \'64

spiaggia settembre del \'64

stasera vedi staglia il tuo residuo
la minuscola falla da cui passa
l\'oceano dei rimbrotti la grancassa
dei debiti e dei saldi l\'individuo
che ristagna qui dentro dove grido
il tuo nome senza eco senza che
mi dica me senza mi dica vedo
il luogo dove sto dove io che rido
sto fisso nel sorriso della posa
non ricordando il gesto né il perché
né il come o l\'oggi esatto che non posa
e mentre con il tempo il tempo predo
sento la tua distanza nel divieto
che mi ricaccia qui dove rimango
quello che fui per te lungo la falla
da cui passo e ripasso e viene a galla
la colpa stessa per cui canto e piango
come se fossi al fondo della scala
e non sentissi il colpo della pala
che mi fa padre di mio padre e stampo
che mi ricalca tuo senza più scampo
Close

beach September ‘64

tonight you see your residue outlines
the tiny leak through which passes
the ocean of reproaches the drum
of debts and sales the individual
who stagnates in here where I scream
your name without echo without
it saying me to me without it saying I see
the place where I who laugh
remain fixed in the smile of the stance
not remembering the gesture nor the reason
nor the how or the exact today that does not stand
and while I prey time with time
I feel your distance in the prohibition
that drives me back here where I remain
what I was for you along the leak
through which I pass and pass again and the very guilt
surfaces for which I sing and cry
as if I were at the bottom of the ladder
and did not feel the blow of the shovel
that makes me father of my father and stamp
that imitates yours with no hope left

beach September ‘64

tonight you see your residue outlines
the tiny leak through which passes
the ocean of reproaches the drum
of debts and sales the individual
who stagnates in here where I scream
your name without echo without
it saying me to me without it saying I see
the place where I who laugh
remain fixed in the smile of the stance
not remembering the gesture nor the reason
nor the how or the exact today that does not stand
and while I prey time with time
I feel your distance in the prohibition
that drives me back here where I remain
what I was for you along the leak
through which I pass and pass again and the very guilt
surfaces for which I sing and cry
as if I were at the bottom of the ladder
and did not feel the blow of the shovel
that makes me father of my father and stamp
that imitates yours with no hope left
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
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