WITH YOU

Pubblico oggi per la prima volta una mia poesia in lingua inglese, splendidamente tradotta da una carissima amica, Daniela Domenici...grazie di vero cuore!

With You

I can invent

indulging in the kitchen

linking new and unexpected tastes

like strange tempests of tastes

You don’t ask me “what have you done”

you tell me “let’s try”

with the curious smile of a new adventure

to be tasted with bites

waiting for mine

with you

no mask

If I use make up you like

That I paint my face

With brilliant colors

Chewing fearful glances

From the kajal lipstick

And dipping your fingers

In palettes of senses

As at a prepared table

But in the morning

You stab me with your hands

Which stroke my face

Clean

Exalting The purity of my features

Which you paint with your mouth

And your transparent breaths

I like

When you are without make up

You silently tell me without cries

I see you

Very tender and sexy

Exciting dressed in white

And light blue

With you

I can do and undo

And not do

A very free firefly

Drowned in a rainbow

I can be myself

To lure you If I am on fire

To rebel If I am angry

Melting tenderness and flashes

Of an ancient restlessness

Not to be afraid Of anything

Me

Afraid since ever

Of everything

I can live

Live

Live

And still live

Drowning your space in mine

Stroking my hidden impulses

Bursting

Suffused or crying

Painting contours

Faded

Or turning flashes of me on

In hot vertigoes

With you

I rebel to myself

Overflowing enemy

Of my thousand defects

I make peace

With my eternal anger

Of being an estranged woman

Overflowing from the usual boundaries

And bizarre emotions

The dam

Is made of welcoming velvet

And of tender mirrors

New stimuli

Of a foolish existence

Female

To get drunk in the morning

Penetrated by dawn

Enclosed

By a strange pinwheel

Of a perverse passion

And innocent

Changing

Of a new existence

Generated by nothing

And entrusted

To a leather couch

And to rustling thoughts

Kidnapped by

Widened horizons

To pierce boredom

As a sharp sword

By the sharp knife of life

By an erotic expectation

Of surprises made of feeble pulses

And suspended judgments

Or not expressed

It is a mosaic

Of suspended attentions

A music inside

A crazy orchestra of winds

And drums

Rumbling for perfumed essences

Oozing of life

All new

Changing because of us.