Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Roberto Baronti Marchiò

Assisi

In a hotel on the square
in the kerosene warmed air,
the sun on our afternoon faces,
and the bodies blooming
in a sea of little ripples
you were a goddess in my hands.

Outside, out of the spring blew
a cold wind from the north,
but holy winds
brought vapors of incense
from the arched entrances
and a cackling of female tourists.

An empty ashtray
quivered in your hands.
I loved the deep breathing
that lit up your face
and the white frozen soles
of your small feet.

In the square, under the colonnades
exposed to the gazes and the wind
each one undid his shroud;
further down, under the vineyard pergolas
hunger rubbed down the little
that was left of humanity.

We two, far away, lost in words,
among the golden skies of the refectories,
in the dampness of monachal cells
naked we entered love,
alone among ancient discarded gods.

Assisi

Assisi

In un albergo di piazza,
nell\'aria scaldata a cherosene,
il sole sui volti pomeridiani,
ed i corpi sbocciati
in un mare di crepolature,
eri una dea nelle mani.

Fuori, della primavera soffiava
una fredda tramontana,
ma venti di santità
portavano vapori di incenso
dai portoni ad ogiva
ed un\'anatrare di turiste.

Un posacenere vuoto
si animò tra le tue mani.
Amavo il respiro profondo
che illuminava il tuo viso
e le bianche piante gelate
dei tuoi piedi minuti.

Nella piazza, sotto le arcate
esposti agli sguardi e al vento,
ognuno svolgeva il proprio sudario;
più giù, sotto pergolati di vigna,
la fame stropicciava quel poco
di umano che rimaneva.

Noi due, lontano, persi tra le parole,
nei cieli dorati dei refettori,
nell\'umido di celle monacali,
spogli nell\'amore ci addentrammo,
soli tra antichi dèi dismessi.
Close

Assisi

In a hotel on the square
in the kerosene warmed air,
the sun on our afternoon faces,
and the bodies blooming
in a sea of little ripples
you were a goddess in my hands.

Outside, out of the spring blew
a cold wind from the north,
but holy winds
brought vapors of incense
from the arched entrances
and a cackling of female tourists.

An empty ashtray
quivered in your hands.
I loved the deep breathing
that lit up your face
and the white frozen soles
of your small feet.

In the square, under the colonnades
exposed to the gazes and the wind
each one undid his shroud;
further down, under the vineyard pergolas
hunger rubbed down the little
that was left of humanity.

We two, far away, lost in words,
among the golden skies of the refectories,
in the dampness of monachal cells
naked we entered love,
alone among ancient discarded gods.

Assisi

In a hotel on the square
in the kerosene warmed air,
the sun on our afternoon faces,
and the bodies blooming
in a sea of little ripples
you were a goddess in my hands.

Outside, out of the spring blew
a cold wind from the north,
but holy winds
brought vapors of incense
from the arched entrances
and a cackling of female tourists.

An empty ashtray
quivered in your hands.
I loved the deep breathing
that lit up your face
and the white frozen soles
of your small feet.

In the square, under the colonnades
exposed to the gazes and the wind
each one undid his shroud;
further down, under the vineyard pergolas
hunger rubbed down the little
that was left of humanity.

We two, far away, lost in words,
among the golden skies of the refectories,
in the dampness of monachal cells
naked we entered love,
alone among ancient discarded gods.
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