Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Roberto Baronti Marchiò

Where am I in sleep

Where am I in sleep when
under the stone of the eyes
the mind takes leave from itself
and the body slides
empty and nerveless
into the immeasurable void
shaken only by irregular tremors?
Taken away from life
and from myself
what am I?

And where are you?
Your deaf body
takes its leave from me.
I do not see you as a person
but mute and distant matter.

But after all it is a false problem.
Taken away from ourselves
we fear ourselves,
we fear that the place of the I
be only an empty square,
a blank that absorbs
and does not release.

How fragile is our consciousness.
The simple thought
of failing ourselves
makes us vanish from ourselves.
But the body that knows,
stays and interrogates us
and falls heavily
as a dead body falls.

Dove sono nel sonno

Dove sono nel sonno

Dove sono nel sonno quando
sotto la pietra degli occhi
la mente si assenta a se stessa
e il corpo scivola
vuoto e snervato
nel vuoto insondabile
mosso solo da scosse scomposte?
Sottratto alla vita
e a me stesso
che sono?

E tu dove sei?
Il tuo corpo sordo
prende congedo da me.
Non ti vedo persona
ma materia muta e distante.

Ma in fondo è un falso problema.
Sottratti a noi stessi
temiamo di noi,
temiamo che il luogo dell’io
sia solo una piazza deserta,
un vuoto che assorbe
e non lascia.

Com’è fragile la nostra coscienza.
Il solo pensiero
di mancare a noi stessi
ci fa svanire a noi stessi.
Ma il corpo che sa,
rimane e ci interroga
e cade pesante
come corpo morto cade.
Close

Where am I in sleep

Where am I in sleep when
under the stone of the eyes
the mind takes leave from itself
and the body slides
empty and nerveless
into the immeasurable void
shaken only by irregular tremors?
Taken away from life
and from myself
what am I?

And where are you?
Your deaf body
takes its leave from me.
I do not see you as a person
but mute and distant matter.

But after all it is a false problem.
Taken away from ourselves
we fear ourselves,
we fear that the place of the I
be only an empty square,
a blank that absorbs
and does not release.

How fragile is our consciousness.
The simple thought
of failing ourselves
makes us vanish from ourselves.
But the body that knows,
stays and interrogates us
and falls heavily
as a dead body falls.

Where am I in sleep

Where am I in sleep when
under the stone of the eyes
the mind takes leave from itself
and the body slides
empty and nerveless
into the immeasurable void
shaken only by irregular tremors?
Taken away from life
and from myself
what am I?

And where are you?
Your deaf body
takes its leave from me.
I do not see you as a person
but mute and distant matter.

But after all it is a false problem.
Taken away from ourselves
we fear ourselves,
we fear that the place of the I
be only an empty square,
a blank that absorbs
and does not release.

How fragile is our consciousness.
The simple thought
of failing ourselves
makes us vanish from ourselves.
But the body that knows,
stays and interrogates us
and falls heavily
as a dead body falls.
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