from https://alessiopatti.altervista.org/
Translated from the Sicilian by Ashley Pizzo
I Love Who I Am Only When I Am With You
I love who I am,
only when I am with you.
My love within yours
an amber-trapped insect:
willful, insistent,
continuously seeking your capricious lips;
remnants of heaven and beauty.
My love is fierce and indomitable
because what is not true to you
be rid of it and of this rage that shrouds you;
banish fate’s dark shadows
I love you and you, you love me.
Hence, the only privilege of love:
our sundering; nothing else,
not the scent of jasmine perfume
or the burning streaks of spiced sweat
or the hot tears of commotion.
I love who I am
only when I am with you.
My love within yours
knife-scored tree bark;
resin and balsam: one
the glowing amber,
the other, the scorned insect.
In the Name of the Father
Bearer of Suffering–
glamorous and gifted,
fanciful, full of charm,
you were my father;
for many, an obstacle
vain and vitriolic,
proud and presumptuous,
for awe and all beauty,
they spoke your name harshly without understanding
the love and reverb of the soul that echoes each time
one thinks of his father, his name.
O, Father, my love for you,
baptized in ineffable purity,
a reliquary not to be bought or sold
be it for all reason, justice, vengeance;
and your name, your effigy
have remained in my solemnity,
with such refinement and richness,
still strong, wandering my heart,
despite the malevolence of fate.
My Love
May I go blind
until I find myself bound,
my lips descend like dead leaves,
sheets become my hands,
fractured, my body
and unable to say a word,
if I am to be denied
admiration of your countenance,
kisses upon your lips,
caresses at the fall of your breasts;
to love you with sweetness
from the depths of each breath
and writing in each of my poems,
the last verse… My love.
If She Touched Me
Among the sun-broken stones
and the celestial-born sky,
I saw a young woman sitting
on the sands of the beach.
I met her eyes…
how breathtaking!
the rocks and their terracotta tint
the shade of earthen leaves
sparkling with sin and sunset
how beautiful she was, my God
she touched the sea,
and the sea was heavy with resplendence
she touched the sand,
and the sand was laden with seafoam and stars
and I thought…
who knows what would happen
if she touched me?
Who Are You? (At a Certain Age the Myths Return)
My soul traverses Tartarus…
Who are you that runs, runs away
flees without ever getting caught?
From which corner do my thoughts emerge?
O Arcane Myth, do you make your way to me?
Who are you, you tiny, shining creature,
with brilliant wings of colored skies
and untold tenderness? Are you a goddess,
one alight with flames? A sprite perhaps?
A fucking nun?
Who are you, o Venus, full of beauty,
that fills me with desire,
and embitters my heart?
Come between my sheets, and speak to me of love; do not make me cry anymore.
Do you not see that I am old,
no longer lovable,
no longer giving nor gleeful?
And even if I do not want to, we will begin again, burning as Apollo might.
If it was Love you came to bring me,
then love me, o Venus, and do so quickly,
though if you deprive me of consolation,
disappear and do not scorn me.
O Lady of My Infinite Love
Embrace me, o Lady of My Infinite Love.
In my tired and coughing body, there is still a
trace of sensuality.
Fear not when you caress my heart and
hear the throb of sweetness,
still the same sound as when, young,
I loved you as though you were Apollo
… and although I am no longer in God, I love you
more than ever. I am sure, for my sights have
pierced Paradise and its mystery.
You are beautiful, did you know?
your white hair like snow upon the most breathtaking camellias;
your braids, sure strands knotted by sailors;
your sweet lips, the most burgeoning buttons of rose.
Enough, come here and don’t hurry. Caress my face;
feel each and every rapture that crests;
feel the sagging skin, the furrows caused by the pain;
feel how there is endless desire for you in me.
See, darling, don’t hurry. Caress my hands;
feel the veins warped through work
while thinking only of your beauty.
Feel my shoulders black and blue, and the cross upon
them, how they managed to resist every evil to get to
you—your caresses and your wares of bread and wine.
Do not cry now, my lovesick fool,
fear not my verses,
nor the ardor of these final lines,
and know you forever remain
the Woman of My Infinite Love.
Alessio Patti is a Sicilian poet, playwright and dramatist. His published writings include Viculu Sacramentu [“Sacrament Alley”], Malìa e sintimentu [“Evil and Feeling”], Trenta jorna di spitali [“Thirty Days of Hospitals”] and Lu Matrimoniu [“The Marriage”], as well as the poetry collections La me Terra di Dintra [“My Land Within”] and La me arma sapi d’omu [“My Weapon Knows of Man”]. In Uguale agli dèi [“Equal to God”] he translated the great poets, from Sappho to Erri De Luca, into the language of his fathers.
Ashley Pizzo is a writer and translator working with Sicilian, Italian, French, and Spanish. Her translations include poetry by Ignazio Buttita; her translation of his poem “Lu sceccu” (“The Mule”) was awarded the 2024 Aetna Prize for Literary Translation and was published in the Long River Review. Her fantasy novel, The Edge of the Forest, was runner-up for the 2024 Aetna Prize for Creative Writing for Children and Young Adults. She also writes short fiction, and her horror story, “1901,” was published by Elegant Media Literature.
World Poetry Review 