
THE POEM
Only white clouds travel
from the bald peak of the sun
to the plain and the Apulian desert
is a tide of light, that plucks
tufts of green on the hills.
The smoke of summer trains
scatters among the stubbly trails
and the Tavoliere is huge
desolate fire.
A still time caresses the leaves
and noon filters on the barnyard
glimmers of fresh sand.
Ants and children play nearby:
here between cracked rocks
shiny lines in black processions,
there in the grass, hems of white baby garments
chasing fairies and queens.
But beyond the hedge, those eyes,
distracted by the passing bee,
do not perceive on the curve of the sea
secluded faraway horizons.
(Translation by Cristanziano Luca Serricchio)
From Questi Ragazzi (1991), in Poems of Tomorrow. Selected Poems 1978-2010 (2011)
Edited by Plinio Perilli
© GRADIVA PUBLICATIONS Stony Brook, New York
Villanova (Ostuni). Photo Archivio Fotogramma

