Poems by Elisabetta Bagli

Between the bushes

To Federico García Lorca

In the infinite fields,
Horses run upwind,
They fight for the light,
Drawing red flowers,
Woven like threads of dew.

Underwater
The green moon hides
And like death
It heals the white words:
Exaltation of the grieving soul.

This is how I am,
Among silent bushes,
Needles stuck in my skin
That no longer knows life
Nor the sap of time,
But the cold of the earth
Which they decided to cover me with
And which nobody,
So far, has been able to find.

Fields in Bloom

To the feverish love of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning

The darkness of my soul
Has lit
To the sound of your words.
From the old oak
New leaves germinated.
An exasperated blackness
Wanted to swallow me
And turned to the red colour of poppies
That you offer me every day.
I voraciously eat the petals
And I forget.
I have satiated my hunger.

——————–

I offer poppies to you
On sheets of paper
To damn you, mind and flesh.
I give away febrile hopes
Replacing your colours
For those of a pleasure
That is only in your dreams.
But one day, my dear,
We will break in flight
To the fields in bloom
And, qualms and agonies finally abandoned,
We will find ourselves making love.

Hands

To the Art of Lorenzo Quinn
A new feeling,
Hands in the night
And fingers glistening,
Clutching the future
Of cross-cutting destinies.

Vivid hands desiring one another,
Unsuspecting eyes smiling
At the new life,
Seeking comfort,
Unfolding in the world.

The groove of each sorrow
Is in the wrinkles of the skin
Announcing
The abandonment of hands
That support each other
Beyond eternity.