Things by the frontier

Dig and dig,

ah if in the end it digs

this square footage of fear

for how certain things come between your teeth.

Raised from torn depths

how could we know them so torn apart

so deeply they had buried us.

In this world that disturbs

in the last folds of the peace of the cypresses the dead are lined up,

only now, and with difficulty, can we close our eyes

to which it seems that no rest is due,

when far away in the flaring naming of bridges,

devoured by flaming tongues on the back

our legs tremble with a waking fear

and from there to around here,

inside insatiable bins lash

of incomparable dazzling lightning.

Francesco Giusti (Italy, 1952-), translation by Slow Words

This is an unpublished poem read by the author (pictured on the cover image) on December 18 2019 in Venice during a night mixing poetry and rebetiko at About warehouse organized by Inedito! a young collective of poets.

To learn more about the author and to buy a book (in Italian) of his recent writings:

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