ask me anything: alessandro@molinari.com

28 April 2008

Sette giorni

C’è sempre un occhio bianco
a guardarti quando t’assale nella solitudine della notte;
ti trascina giù nell’umido della terra
dove ogni canzone si trasforma in un pantano
e sprofondi nel fango di ricordi e rimpianti
mentre le forze ti abbandonano distratte dai segni che ha lasciato,
dai profumi dai discorsi ancora nell’aria,
impegnate a colmare uno spazio divenuto troppo vuoto.

L’accompagna sempre una raffica di sussulti
che a volte ti derubano anche il respiro
e senza trovare la via d’uscita
marciscono tra l’esofago e la gola.

Puoi solo sperare che la notte sia veloce
e muta perchè anche il più piccolo rumore ora ti spaventa
e che la luce arrivi a nascondere le lacrime e la paura.
ed a colorare nuovamente la vita.
Finché non tornerà anche lei,
a cambiare posto al sole
ed a incenerire questa malinconia in sorrisi.

    Seven days

    There is always a white eye
    looking at you when it overcomes you in the solitude of the night;
    it drags you down, in the moist of the earth
    where every song changes into tears
    and you sink in the mud of memories and regrets
    while all the strengths abandon you distracted by the sings she left,
    by the scents by the chats still in the air,
    engaged in filling up a space grown too much empty.

    It’s always escorted by a burst of starts
    that sometimes steal you even the breath
    and without finding the way out
    go bad between the oesophagus and the throat.

    You can only hope that the night will be quick
    and dumb because now also the lightest noise scares you
    and that the light will come to hide tears and fear
    and to colour again the life.
    Until she wont be back too,
    to change the place of the sun
    and to burn down this melancholy into smiles.

16 April 2008

The way they do it

They argued. Once again for few more than nothing.

He was deeply upset. Closed into his silence he was escaping from her look and her attempts to make peace. Like always.

On the sofa, she tried to kiss him, sweetly, kindly as she was used to be when he was mad coz of her errors. He dodged her lips with a movement of his head: he was waiting for a sorry, not for a damn kiss.

She sadly gave up with her aim leaving just a little kiss on his right shoulder.

«I’m going to take a shower», she said: maybe he would have made out a solution through his anger, in the meantime.

He left his eyes staring at the wall for all the time of her shower. White, clean, with no suggestions for him. The reasons he had for being mad were childish and stupid but he knew that if he didn’t react, they would have ruined even that night.

Am I really arguing for nothing more than a caprice? She left everything for me, why should I ask for other proofs?

He had to move on this little obstacle, go downstairs and just hugging her. He couldn’t let his stupid behaviours break their love. He had to go over his jealousy and stop worrying for bullshits and revenges.

He got in his mind all the path to settle down and get her happy, starting from wearing off his serious and broken-hearted look. For one second all the muscles of his face relaxed at once and everything appeared to him so clearly in its simplicity. He would have made peace, it was so damn easy!

«Teddy, it’s your turn for the shower» her voice, again sweet and calm. Like nothing important really happened between them.

Ok I will make peace after the shower he said to himself. The water will wash away any doubt, he deceived himself.

She went in bed exactly when he ended the shower. He took it too long, like he wasn’t used to do, delaying on washing his feet, contemplating the white foam over his sex.

I will give him time to digest this stupid thing and I wont bother him anymore tonight.

She slipped under the sheets, covering her head too. She didn’t want him to see her red eyes nor to see that nasty serious look of him.

He just saw her shape on the bed, under the plaid. The right moment was passed away.

Nobody said a word that night.

Another little step towards the failure, they both thought when the light was switched off.

08 April 2008

La notte

Riabbraccio la notte,
muta compagna,
coperta di pizzo.
Il suo velo di seta
bacia le tempie,
conduce per mano
al grembo la mente.
In un letto sì grande
prende forma il suo corpo:
di sospiri si gonfiano i seni,
di desiderio gravida il ventre.
Una brina salata
sulla pelle si posa,
ne scaturisce tenue un profumo
morbido, come di rosa.
La brezza le dona voce,
prende forza, s’ingrossa,
si tramuta in canto.
S’affanna il soffio
arruffa i capelli,
sbatte, spinge
sotto le lenzuola s’insinua.
S’accappona la pelle,
scattano i tendini:
è una scossa d`amore!
in un palmo di mano,
nasce e poi muore.

    The night
    I hug the night again,
    dumb partner,
    covered with lace.
    Her silky veil
    kisses my head
    leads by the hand
    the mind to the lap.
    In a so big bed
    her body takes shape:
    sighs blown up the breast,
    desire make the belly pregnant.
    A salty frost
    lays down on the skin,
    out of it a light fragrance springs
    soft, like rose’s.
    The breeze gives her voice,
    it gets stronger, bigger,
    turns itself into canto.
    Troubles the whiff,
    ruffles hair,shakes, shoves
    under the sheets it slips.
    Flesh creeps,
    tendon leaps:
    it’s a love’s shock!
    in a palm of a hand
    its birth and death.

07 April 2008

Latin's hits

Recently seasons change after every single sunset.
Just tears or laughs alter time’s pace. And only dreams can stop it.
For years I’ve been crawling in the dark, in a place with no space nor time, just to discover that, even escaped from there, I still can be hurt and lose my mind coz of something coming from the darkness.

Today is spring, again. And in the warm sunlight I pretend, once again, I don’t know anymore what the gloom is.

But deep in my soul, I know it’s just a question of pace: I’m running away from words, actions, regrets: mine or yours.
Winter, spring, summer, fall.
Accelerating time. Running against the wind, closing eyes so they can’t get wet.
Finding the darkness, with no dreams and with the echo of the last weep.