
THE POEM
Exhausted, without water, without rhyme
to-and-frowing among the desert sands
with no road, without moon; invisible
boundary, cancelled each dim light you
go on with shuttered eyes never knowing
if you discover the crossing to the corrida.
Alone and naked you met the challenge.
A thorn drove you ahead while doubt
eroded each step you took:
where's the magus that calls you? Why all
alone to cross a barrier if the goal
is forever dark, ever changing and turning?
Crystal filaments like spent torches the
fingers lifting you up to somewhere else;
flaming black lights invite to the dance beyond the passage, the horizon, the sea without foam. Come, maid Yannarosa pass the stone wall erasing your fear – from a match won springs forth pure air. (Translation by the author) Author's copyright, 1998
Salento. Photo by Emilio Nicolì

