Mattia Tarantino, Italy

Mattia Tarantino, ITALY

The Poems

I WOULD LIKE TO LOOK AT THE SKY

I would like to look at the sky, but the stars
open my blood and disturb
the verses on the mouths of the dead:

tonight my mother will not participate
to the breaking of the bread, she will not allow
neither laughs nor prayers, she will turn
all the names down and override them;

tonight my father will not remember
all the times he guessed right, all the times
the word cut his word off.

Tonight I will take a needle to sew
my eyes on my mother’s eyes,
a little knife to empty
my bones into my father’s bones.

I would like to look at the sky, but the stars
I’ve got them in my teeth and they hurt.

*

Θα ήθελα να κοιτάξω τον ουρανό

Θα ήθελα να κοιτάξω τον ουρανό, αλλά τα αστέρια
ανοίγουν τις φλέβες μου και παρενοχλούν
τους στίχους στα στόματα των νεκρών.
Απόψε η μητέρα μου δεν συμμετέχει
στην αρτοκλασία, δεν επιτρέπει
ούτε γέλια ούτε προσευχές, γυρίζει ανάποδα
όλα τα ονόματα και τα ξεπερνάει.

Απόψε ο πατέρας μου δεν θυμάται
πόσες φορές είχε μαντέψει σωστά, πόσες φορές
η λέξη του έκοψε τη λέξη.

Απόψε παίρνω τη βελόνα και ράβω
τα μάτια μου στα μάτια της μητέρας μου, παίρνω
ένα μικρό μαχαίρι και αδειάζω
τα οστά μου στα οστά τού πατέρα μου.

Θα ήθελα να κοιτάξω τον ουρανό, αλλά έχω
τα αστέρια ανάμεσα στα δόντια και με πονάνε.

*

Vorrei guardare il cielo

Vorrei guardare il cielo, ma le stelle
mi aprono il sangue e disturbano
i versi in bocca ai morti:

stanotte mia madre non partecipa
al pane che si spezza, non consente
né risate né preghiere, capovolge
tutti i nomi e li scavalca;

stanotte mio padre non ricorda
quante volte ha indovinato, quante volte
la parola gli ha mozzato la parola.

Stanotte prendo l’ago e cucio
i miei occhi agli occhi di mia madre, prendo
un piccolo coltello e svuoto
le mie ossa nelle ossa di mio padre.

Vorrei guardare il cielo, ma le stelle
le ho tra i denti e fanno male.

* * *

AUTUMN

For some time now the leaves have been uncertain,
the sky doesn’t sink
into their dark veins, where the tangled blood
turns down and falls.

This morning a rounding sparrow sang,
announcing the catastrophe.

*

Φθινόπωρο

Εδώ και λίγο τα φύλλα είναι αβέβαια,
ο ουρανός δεν βυθίζεται
στις σκοτεινές φλέβες τους, όπου το αίμα
μπλέκεται σε στροφές και πτώσεις.
Σήμερα το πρωί ένα σπουργίτι σε περιπολία
ανακοίνωσε τραγουδιστά την καταστροφή.

*

Autunno

È da un po’ che le foglie sono incerte,
che il cielo non sprofonda
nelle loro vene scure, dove il sangue
aggrovigliato gira e cade.

Stamattina un passero di ronda
annunciava la catastrofe cantando.

The Poet

Mattia Tarantino, born in Naples in 2001. Co-directs Inverso – Giornale di poesia; collaborates with YAWP – Giornale di letterature e filosofieand Menabò – Rivista internazionale di cultura poetica e letteraria; as translator with Iris News – Rivista internazionale di poesia. He has appeared in several Italian and international newspapers, magazines and anthologies (including Il Corriere della Sera, La Repubblica, Il Manifesto). His verses have been translated into seven languages. He has published Tra l’angelo e la sillava (Terra d’ulivi, 2017), Fiori estinti (Terra d’ulivi, 2019) and translated Poema della fine (Terra d’ulivi, 2020) by Vasilisk Gnedov.