Poetry translation: 3 poems of Valentina Calista

Broken glasses on our floor
(the floor which saw us dancing,
the floor where our love were enchained)
after the rumble of your iron words.
The roots of love existence have dug,
strangling the moist soil
with the grasp of a frightened fist.
After dreaming about peaceful Orient
we have strengthen our passion
freed from vices and past lives’ thorns
hanging by our shadows.
We began the dance, hand in hand,
eye in eye, chest to chest.
Unable to hold our senses
We loved each other.
Life is a God joke.


The width of your back

always stands my indecisions.

If it’s raining today – after long time – is for you

because you’re opening my eyelids, my eyes

and make my convictions dripped wet

by buried purities in the bedroom,

the one we had, that we have here too.

But, sure, it’s different.

It’s not the same width that belonged to us,

smaller hands, smaller ideas,

but dreams magnify remote days,

those where memories are eaten

with empty stomach, where the future

is sculpted by cramps.

If the night I badly breath is for the air

that’s burning along the tunnel where my voice

is expanding.

Your elbow saves me from nocturnal sleep apnoea.

If I turn round I find you intact, crystallized

In the love that wanted me: I wanted to  be

your first love. As if it were the last.


Living with you

is ever living,

but always living

with the fright

of your absence.

If I had the sacred certainty

of seeing you

until the last day,

I’d discover our eyes again, the same,

in the grooves of your  face,

through dilatations of time.

If I had this sacred certainty

I’d even think of smiling to the death,

‘cause  she should be scared of

our intimate harmonies of love.


Translation by Valentina Calista



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