THE POEM
What became, grandma,
of the grater
you gave me to turn
on Sunday feast days?
And of the boiling oil
in which you gently laid
vermilion pellets
kneaded with love
for the children?
The red of the tomatoes
that you squeezed over broken
noodles, then,
what became of them, grandma?
Maybe over there where you are
You’re still at work
gathering the family
round the table
in the kitchen
where in the center
you proudly showed
the bowl
of cacio ricotta.
And what became, grandma,
of the taste of spumoni
bought from mon Bebè?
And of the black cherries
from Orlando
that you jealously kept
for the torta pasticciotto
made for grandpa?
That time
of short trousers
and a side part, then,
what became of it, grandma?
(Lecce, 2001)
(Translation by Joan McMullin)
From 133 liriche più una (133 lyrics plus one) - Poesie (2015)
© Salento Books - Besa Editrice, Nardò (Lecce)
Giurdignano (Lecce). St Joseph's tables. Photo by Nicola Amato