October 2024 V-10 N-7 Issue No. 115

 

A

WORLDWIDE WRITERS’ WEB

PRESENTATION!

 

PUBLISHED BY

 

OPA

 

OUR

POETRY ARCHIVE

ONLINE MONTHLY POETRY JOURNAL

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com

email us to:

ourpoetryarchive@gmail.com

**************************************

 

 

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU INTERVIEW

 

NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH

POET OF THE MONTH

EVITA CONSTANTINOU

OCTOBER 2024

NILAVRONILL: Welcome to Our Poetry Archive, dear poet. And congratulations as the poet of this month. I would like to know your personal views on literature or poetry in general.

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: Thank you very much for appointing me Poet of the Month. It is a pleasure and an honour to converse with you and share thoughts and feelings in this special interview. I believe that poetry and literature hold a special place in human culture and in the expression of emotions and thoughts that can be difficult to convey in other ways. Through words, writers and poets share their experiences and evoke emotional responses in readers. Additionally, we can understand the human psyche because literature and poetry explore human nature and our inner conflicts. Through stories and verses, we can better comprehend the desires, fears, and motivations that guide our behaviour could easily say that poetry and literature offer cultural and historical value because various literary works record and preserve the cultural and historical traditions of a society. They serve as a mean of maintaining the heritage and identity of people and provide valuable insights into the past. Through poetry and literature, significant education and enrichment occur because our linguistic abilities are enhanced, and our intellectual horizons are broadened. Through reading, we learn new ideas, strengthen our critical thinking, and gain a better understanding of the world. Furthermore, creative expression and imagination can be cultivated because the creation of literary works and poems is a way to nurture our imagination and explore new ideas. Writing allows us to create new worlds and characters, providing an outlet for our creativity. Overall, I consider poetry and literature to be integral elements of the human experience that enrich our lives and connect us with others.

NILAVRONILL: What are the factors that have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary life. When, most probably you were not certain of your future as a poet or writer. Do you think society as a whole is the key factor in shaping up you as a poet, or your poetry altogether?

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: During the development phase of my literary life, the factors that influenced me greatly included my personal not always happy experiences, my teachers and mentors, my engagement with literature and the arts, a serious car accident that changed my whole life and of course, the social and cultural conditions of the time. Society as a whole played a decisive role in shaping my perception of the world and poetry. Social concerns, political upheavals, cultural trends, and historical moments influenced not only the content of my works but also my very need to write. However, it wasn't just society that shaped me. My personal experiences and inner quests were equally significant. Especially after the accident, I completely changed my worldview and the way I approach people, life, and the opportunities that come our way. Overall, I would say that society and my personal experiences worked together to shape me as a poet. My poetry reflects both external social influences and my internal processes.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you consider your literary life as an extension of your self-existence? If so, how it is related with the time around you?

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: Yes, I consider my literary life as an extension of my self-existence. My writing reflects my inner thoughts, emotions, and experiences. When I write, I express the essence of my being and discover more about myself. This process is intrinsically linked to the time around me, as social, cultural, and historical contexts shape my views and experiences. Through my literature, I attempt to capture and analyse the reality around me while also exploring my inner world.

 

NILAVRONILL: As a poet, do socio-economy and politics in general influence your literary visions? If so how, and if not, why?

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: Yes, as a poet, socio-economy and politics generally influenced my literary visions. Poetry is a form of Art that reflects reality and its era. Socio-economic conditions and political developments shape the environment we live in and therefore affect our experiences, thoughts, and emotions. These influences are inevitable and find their way into my poems, whether directly or indirectly. Poetry can serve as a mean of protest, a call for change, or simply a record of reality, offering an internal perspective on the consequences of socio-economic and political events.

NilavroNill: Is it possible to put into the words everything that as a poet you wish to express literarily? If not, why?

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU:  No, it is not always possible to put into words everything I wish to express literarily. Language, though a very powerful tool, has its limits. There are emotions, thoughts, and experiences that are so profound or multidimensional that they cannot be fully captured with words. Poetry attempts to grasp the essence of these feelings and experiences, but sometimes what we feel transcends the expressive power of language. Additionally, the individual perception and personal interpretation of each reader add another dimension, which can affect the complete expression of my thoughts.

 

NilavroNill: Do you agree with John Keats (1795-1821) on his ardent believe, “Truth is beauty, beauty is truth”? Even if we take for instance the war of Kurukshetra, the conflicts between Kauravas and Pandavas, or the fall out of second world war in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, how can we manage to reconcile between those truths with beauty as promulgated by Keats?

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: John Keats' phrase, "Truth is beauty, beauty is truth," is deeply poetic and philosophical. I partly agree with this view on a deeper, idealistic level. Truth and beauty are intertwined in the quest for meaning and aesthetics, and recognizing the truth can bring a form of beauty, even if it is harsh or unpleasant. However, when we consider historical events like the war of Kurukshetra, the conflicts between the Kauravas and the Pandavas, or the aftermath of World War II in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the application of Keats' phrase becomes more complex. These events are filled with pain, destruction, and injustice, events that seem to lack any beauty. Reconciling these truths with beauty, as Keats perceives it, can be achieved by understanding human nature and seeking the deeper meaning of things. We can find beauty in the resilience of people, in the ability to learn from our mistakes, and in creating better futures. The history of humanity, despite its dark chapters, has moments of triumph and growth that reveal the truth and beauty of the human spirit.

 

NilavroNill: Too many writers believe imagery is an essential part of poetry. Do you agree this notion? Even if we consider Leonardo da Vinci’s words that poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: I agree with the notion that imagery is an essential part of poetry. Imagery helps convey emotions, ideas, and experiences in a way that can touch the reader on a deeper level. Vivid descriptions and sensory images can transport the reader to another world and make poetry more powerful and memorable. Leonardo da Vinci’s view that poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen supports this idea. Poetry uses words to create images in the reader’s mind, evoking emotions and thoughts that are strong and personal. Through the use of imagery, poets can convey messages and meanings that could not be fully expressed with simple words alone.

 

NilavroNill: Do you believe, passionately falling in love with a particular language is essential to excel in poetical ventures? And is it possible to write poems in multiple languages preserving same literary quality? We would like to know your own experiences.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: I believe that passionately falling in love with a particular language can be a very important factor in excelling in poetry. When you feel deeply connected to a language, you understand its subtle nuances, the words and phrases that can express the deepest emotions and ideas. This can add richness and depth to your poetry. However, it is also possible to write poems in multiple languages while preserving almost the same literary quality, although it requires a lot of effort and practice. Each language has its own peculiarities and cultural references, and knowing these can enrich poetic expression. Personally, I have tried writing in English except from Greek. I am trying every time my best and I believe while each language requires a different approach, the love for poetry and language can bridge these differences.

 

NilavroNill: Do you consider poetry as an emotional outbursts of poet’s personal sentiments? Or is it a long journey to realize and express the universal sentiments beyond all personal limitations? Again, we want to understand your views through your personal experiences of your literary life as a poet.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: For me, poetry is both an emotional outburst and a long journey to recognize and express universal sentiments that transcend my personal limitations. Throughout my literary life as a poet, I have experienced the quest for truth and beauty through poetry, trying to connect the personal with the universal human pain and the search for real meaning.

 

NilavroNill: I would like to quote T. S. Eliot, “No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists.  You cannot value him alone; you must set him for contrast and comparison among the dead.” We would like to know your views in details on Eliot’s comments.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: According to T. S. Eliot, no poet or artist of any art has his complete meaning alone. His significance and appreciation depend on his relation to the dead poets and artists, set for contrast and comparison among them. This perspective highlights the continuity and influence of poetic tradition and cultural heritage in the development of each new poetic endeavor.

 

NilavroNill: Would you consider, it should be the goal of a poet to enlightens the readers towards much greater apprehensions as well as appreciations of life and eternity in general? Or is it better to write poems only to console the poet’s soul?

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: In my view, it should be the initial goal of a poet to enlighten readers towards greater apprehensions and appreciations of life and eternity. Poetry can serve as a mean for discovering deeper truths, criticizing social problems and offering readers a progressive spiritual experience. At the same time, poetry can also console the poet's soul, but its artistic value is even greater when it manages to combine personal sense of pain and beauty with guiding and engaging the reader.

 

NILAVRONILL: We are almost at the end of the interview. I remain obliged to you for your participation. Now, personally I would like to know your honest opinion about Our Poetry Archive. Since April 2015 we are publishing and archiving contemporary world poetry each and every month. Thank you for sharing your views and spending much time with us.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU: My honest opinion about Our Poetry Archive is that it is a valuable initiative for promoting and archiving contemporary poetry from around the world. The continuous publication of poems every month since April 2015 demonstrates dedication to poetic creation and the diversity of the global poetic scene. It serves as a precious resource for those who love poetry and seek new voices and perspectives in the realm of poetry. Τo be completely honest, to maintain the OPA Poetry Archive's pivotal role, you personally play a significant role both as a poet first and foremost, and then as a publisher who works with your soul for this endeavour because you love it like your own child, I would say. Despite the enormous effort without facilitation or funding, you continue tirelessly for so many years, providing not only a voice for poets worldwide but also the opportunity for us to connect and exchange our poetic concerns. Our discussion has been very pleasant and constructive for me. Thank you again for the honour of appointing me as the Poet of the Month. I am deeply honoured, and I consider it an opportunity to bring attention to my small homeland, Cyprus, internationally.

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU is a teacher hailing from Limassol, Cyprus. She has been involved in poetry and writing from a young age and has a particular love for the local Cypriot dialect. In 2021, she published her first poetry collection titled ‘Kite Ascension’, as well as a music album ‘Like a Kite’ featuring songs set to music from the collection. She also engages in lyric writing, having written 16 songs to date in collaboration with Greek and Cypriot composers. Evita actively participates in various social, charitable, and cultural activities throughout Cyprus. She is a registered member of the Cyprus Writers' Association (ELK), the Cyprus Association of Children's and Youth Books (CYBBI), the Limassol Literary Society – Vasilis Michaelides, where she serves on the Board as the Public Relations Secretary, the Association of Literature and Criticism (OLK), the Hellenic Cultural Association of Cypriots (EPOK), and the Association of Musical and Poetic Arts Mousagetes Apollon. Since 2021, she has been part of the writing team of Chronos Publications, with which she published her ecological fairy tale ‘I Am Not Trash’. Her two individual literary works have been approved by the Ministry of Education of Cyprus, included in school library materials, and participate in international literary exhibitions. She has received distinctions in literary competitions on a local, national, and international level. She participates in 15 collective literary publications.

EVITA CONSTANTINOU

 

 

Autumn Touch

 

As autumn leaves flutter and fall,

They dance to a seasonal call.

With colors ablaze,

In crisp, golden haze,

They blanket the ground like a shawl.

 

The first moistened soil rain softly fell,

With a fresh, earthy scent to compel.

Puddles gleamed in the light,

Leaves glistened so bright,

Nature's way of casting a spell.

 

The autumn wind whistles so clear,

Rustling leaves as it sweeps near.

With a crisp, playful gust,

It stirs up the dust,

Bringing whispers of winter to hear.

 

October sky often gray,

Clouds gather and linger all day.

With a soft, muted light,

The world’s wrapped up tight,

In a calm, cozy, overcast way.

©Evita Constantinou

 

Moist Swirl

 

On the moistened soil of the first autumn rain,

paint the passage of the new day.

Set your whisper amidst the mysterious dance

of the wind and the sun-scorched leaves.

©Evita Constantinou

 

Wisdom Journey

 

Books, pens, minds collide,

Igniting sparks of insight,

Education's tide.

 

Lessons paint the way,

Minds expand with each new day,

Education's sway.

 

Learning's gentle arc,

Wisdom's journey ever bright,

Education's grace.

 

Books, minds intertwined,

Knowledge's endless horizon,

Education's light.

©Evita Constantinou

 

Peace

 

They called you peace ...

A seasoned acrobat in a global circus.

with a profession of high demand,

enduring all weather and escalating difficulty.

Sometimes unrewarded,

devoid of benefits for unhygienic and perilous work.

Performances and occasional overtime,

subject to the tastes of contentious spectators.

The audience avidly watches

each balancing act unfolds.

Rope is worn and pitiful,

gnawed by insatiable rats.

Feet in constant struggle,

battling thick interests.

Hands weighing wounds on one side,

feathers on the other.

The head doesn't lean left or right

but tirelessly gazes downward.

Hoping, wishing, praying

to overcome once again, victorious

without the bloodied heads of the innocent.

Unstable footsteps on a predetermined path.

Willing spirit, worn-out and aged body.

With every stumble,

cries out in fear to the half-interested crowd.

They called you, Peace...

Always present and paying the price.

Longed for in prayers, hymns,

and rhythmic folk chants.

Your absence, synonymous with war cries,

the smell of blood, and death.

They called you Peace...

In our today, identified

on the list of endangered values.

©Evita Constantinou

 

Covered

 

The depths of my thoughts are like a fiery tempest.

I rage, protest, and silently condemn...

My lungs grieve passively.

Resistance, sold off years ago,

consciences blindly bound.

Every woman of romantic riddle

bleeds mournfully for her severed femininity.

Her amputation, culturally correct,

a seal of purity of passions.

Expressionless, I let it stagger again and again

in the whirlpool of clumsy and immature steps.

Completely confined in a black, full-body misery,

she declares a constant submission to fear.

Freedom harmoniously fragmented into absolute,

horizontal, narrow lines.

Only the eyes conspire untamed.

The gaze, a living enchantress,

fishes for eternal bliss in time.

In the sacred sanctuary of her mind,

Patience, enthroned and crowned.

The measured time of rebirth remains unknown.

© Evita Konstantinou

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU

 

EVITA CONSTANTINOU is a teacher hailing from Limassol, Cyprus. She has been involved in poetry and writing from a young age and has a particular love for the local Cypriot dialect. In 2021, she published her first poetry collection titled ‘Kite Ascension’, as well as a music album ‘Like a Kite’ featuring songs set to music from the collection. She also engages in lyric writing, having written 16 songs to date in collaboration with Greek and Cypriot composers. Evita actively participates in various social, charitable, and cultural activities throughout Cyprus. She is a registered member of the Cyprus Writers' Association (ELK), the Cyprus Association of Children's and Youth Books (CYBBI), the Limassol Literary Society – Vasilis Michaelides, where she serves on the Board as the Public Relations Secretary, the Association of Literature and Criticism (OLK), the Hellenic Cultural Association of Cypriots (EPOK), and the Association of Musical and Poetic Arts Mousagetes Apollon. Since 2021, she has been part of the writing team of Chronos Publications, with which she published her ecological fairy tale ‘I Am Not Trash’. Her two individual literary works have been approved by the Ministry of Education of Cyprus, included in school library materials, and participate in international literary exhibitions. She has received distinctions in literary competitions on a local, national, and international level. She participates in 15 collective literary publications.

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

 

 

Ryan Hreljac

 

Life-Giving Water

 

In the desert,

the cracked soil begs for a downpour

The cloudless sky is sparse in rain

Clouds follow different paths

and they rarely dance above the gray land.

 

The merciful mother Earth gives people

the gift of oases and underground rivers.

Artesian wells make dreams come true

about clean water and fertility.

 

Everyone can help and like a child

offer a thirsty man

one drop of clean water

and hope for a better fate

 

Collegiate Church In Kruszwica

 

In the autumn gilt of leaves,

on the banks of lake Gopło,

the stone collegiate church fell asleep.

 

Time stopped at the threshold of the temple.

It doesn't go inside

and freezes motionless.

 

It paused the hands of the clock

so that everything will continue

as it was centuries ago

- in the ancient beauty of history.

 

The lake tells legends and myths

about mice in the tower and nymphs,

It plays stories with waves.

 

The wind weaves in the twigs of forked willows

the words from Przybyszewski' s diary

about nostalgia and autumn sadness.

 

The church far from the city

does not follow the rhythm of life.

It is rooted in history.

 

I come and go.

I touch the mighty walls.

I am a fleeting moment.

 

Afternoon With Mom

 

a summer day blooms in an old photograph

a smiling girl is sitting on a stone

she has a meadow bouquet of wildflowers

chamomile petals whisper to her

a fortune about her beloved

 

on the next one a happy couple in the park

is walking together into the future

there is a little sun between them

their mystery of the black nights

 

next to me an old woman in an armchair

has faded eyes without hope

look at these pictures’ mom

time has stolen everything from you

and over a half from me

 

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

 

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA – awarded Polish poetess, novelist, journalist, editor. In 2011 she published her first volume of poems entitled: “The Glass Reality”.  Her second volume “Analysis of Feelings”, was published in 2012. The third collection “Moments” was published in English in 2014, both in Poland and in the USA. In 2014, she also published the novel – “Virtual roses” and volume of poems “On the border of dream”. Next year her volume entitled “Girl in the Mirror” was published in the UK and “Love me”, “(Not) my poem” in the USA. In 2015 she also edited anthology entitled “The Other Side of the Screen”. In 2016 she edited two volumes: “ Taste of  Love” (USA), “Thief of Dreams” (Poland) and international anthology entitled “ Love is like Air” (USA).Next year she published volume in Polish entitled “ View From the Window”, collection of love poems in Arabic and English entitled “ Love like arabesque ( together with Egyptian poet Mandour Saleh Hikiel). In 2018 she published international anthology “Love Postcards” and her volume in Russian entitled “Selected poems”. She is a chief editor of series of anthologies entitled “Metaphor of Contemporary” (Poland). Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies and magazines in Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, the UK, Belgium, Bulgaria, Hungary, Albania, Spain, Turkey, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Israel, the USA, Canada, India, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Italy, Uzbekistan,  South Korea, China, Taiwan, South Africa, Zambia, Nigeria and Australia. Her volumes were translated into Albanian language by famous poet and academic Mr Jeton Kelmendi, into Telugu language by famous Hindu poet Mr Lanka Siva Rama Prasad, into Turkish by famous Turkish poet Metin Cengiz, into Italian by famous Italian poetess Maria Miraglia and into Arabic by famous Syrian poetess Shurouk Hammouud. She won : distinction (2014) and medal (2015) on Nosside poetry competition in Italy, statuette in Lithuania (2015), medal of European Academy Science, Arts and Letters in France (2018)), award of Cultural Festival International “Tra le parole e l’ infinito” Italy (2018) She was also twice nominated to the Pushcart Prize in the USA. Alicja Kuberska is a member of the Polish Writers Associations in Warsaw (Poland), E- literaci (Poland)and IWA Bogdani, (Albania). She is also a member of directors’ board of Soflay Literature Foundation (Pakistan), Our Poetry Archive (India). She is Polish Ambassador of Culture of The Inner Child Press (the USA). She belongs to Editorial Advisory Board of Sahitya Anand (India) and IPA Editorial (India).

 

BARBARA DI SACCO

 

 

The Prophecy

 

Along the strip of beach

brooding he advanced like a disease

Almost crawling around the perimeter

of the austere cathedral.

He had long been pre-empted

that every display case would remain empty

No bones to worship

The Age of the Saints

used to produce wax

it was over.

The verdict came

That black, sneaky verb

procastinated, slow, fé yes

than the sand hills

began to melt

the pillars did not hold

so that everything collapsed.

The clastic formation disintegrated

flowing to the floor

every prayer.

Orbo, obnubilata avea

The Vacant Mind

All form was lost

in the tide of clays.

Null and void was any will or sacrifice

brought in time.

The disillusioned verb remained in the area

while evil kneaded the throne.

 

La profezia

 

Lungo la lingua d’arenile

meditabondo avanzava come morbo

quasi strisciando il perimetro

dell’austera cattedrale.

Preconizzato avea da tempo

che vuota sarebbe rimasta ogni teca

senza ossa da venerare

l’epoca dei santi

servita a produrre cera

s’era conclusa.

Disaminato giunse il verdetto

quel verbo nero, subdolo

procastinato, lento, fé sì

che le colline di sabbia

iniziassero a sciogliersi

i pilastri non reggessero

affinché tutto franò.

La formazione clastica si disgregò

fluendo al piano

ogni preghiera.

Orbo, obnubilata avea

la mente vacante

ogni forma si perse

nella marea di argille.

Nullo fu ogni testamento o sacrifizio

recato a tempo.

Restò nell’aree il verbo disilluso

mentre il male impastava il trono.

 

The Road

 

Back to the fountain

To understand where you started from

In a distant time

whether calm or not

From the sun in a square

or under a black sky.

What land have you walked

Boredom o fiorita

arid wet

downhill or more uphill

If the meditated rests

They gathered fruit from the trees.

Sit down a little, leave again

Sowing abandoned stones

pieces of destiny.

You bite the words, you breathe

Sit a stop after years

Turning back

The Lacunar Vision

of a gloomy twilight.

Accompany your dull heart

At the usual pace, never a jolt

And the gaze straight and lost.

The heavy emptiness, never light

Like the dull pain of your footsteps

on the difficult and inhospitable pavement.

To sting you, the usual insect

and the same annoyance

You can't soothe it, in its unreachable place

And that pass full of fog

It now leads you to a frosty night.

 

La strada

 

Tornando alla fontana

per capire da dove sei partito

in un tempo lontano

se di calma o meno

dal sole in una piazza

o sotto un cielo nero.

Quale terra hai camminato

nuda o fiorita

arida bagnata

in discesa o più salita

se i riposi meditati

han raccolto frutta dagli alberi.

Un po' siedi, un po' riparti

seminando sassi abbandonati

pezzi di destino.

Mordi le parole, affanni respiri

siedi una sosta dopo anni

girandoti indietro

la visione lacunare

di una cupa penombra.

Accompagni il tuo cuore spento

al solito ritmo, mai un sobbalzo

e lo sguardo dritto e perso.

Il vuoto pesante, mai lieve

come il sordo dolore dei tuoi passi

sul selciato difficile e inospitale.

A pungerti, il solito insetto

e lo stesso fastidio

non puoi lenirlo, nel suo punto irraggiungibile

e quel valico pieno di nebbia

ti porta adesso verso una notte gelida.

 

Leave

 

Under the Black Rock

gocciolan silent

From a cold cave

of briars and mosses.

From there it descends

A great canal

full of snow

That Candida rests.

An aquila goes to heaven

Launching its suspended cry

On the long echo

resounding the valley.

Lonely and proud

Tack in height

To the mountain

its steep fortress.

The air is so cold

It's a sword

That the chest breaks

The heart leaps

behind a long shiver.

A harp resounds

of wind ropes

between fir and larch needles

on curved branches

from the weight of the ice.

Every note

Part of enchantment

And flying

The many small crystals

They are angels of luminous glass

of light grace

on cold lips

A word dies.

Talking would like to

And she's alone.

Snow becomes heavenly

The light goes down

while the forest is quiet.

Eagles cease to fly

The Gold Trade Closed

I'm a necklace of spheres

Tinkling.

Lonely and icy charm

Shared with the soul

And the chant of the rivulets

Flowing under the stones

of frozen transparencies.

So placid, silent

In the night

He stops, cooling himself

life.

 

Lasciare

 

Sotto la roccia nera

gocciolan stille

da una grotta fredda

di radiche e muschi.

Da lì scende

un grande canale

pieno di neve

che candida riposa.

Un’aquila sale al cielo

lanciandone il grido sospeso

sulla lunga eco

risuonante la valle.

Sola e fiera

vira in altezza

verso la montagna

sua scoscesa fortezza.

L’aria tanto fredda

è una spada

che il petto spezza

il cuore sobbalza

dietro un lungo brivido.

Risuona un’arpa

di corde di vento

fra aghi di abeti e larici

sui rami ricurvi

dal peso dei ghiacci.

Ogni nota

parte d’incanto

e volando

i tanti piccoli cristalli

son angeli di vetro luminoso

di grazia leggera

sulle labbra fredde

muore una parola.

Parlare vorrebbe

ed è sola.

Celeste diviene la neve

cala la luce

mentre il bosco si cheta.

Le aquile cessano il volo

le gocce or ferme

sono una collana di sfere

tintinnanti.

Fascino solo e gelido

condiviso con l’anima

e la cantilena dei rivoli

che scorrono sotto i sassi

delle trasparenze gelate.

Così placida, silente

nella notte

si ferma, freddandosi

la vita.

 

BARBARA DI SACCO

 

BARBARA DI SACCO is an Italian poet, born in Tuscany in 1964. Her poetry is free, flying like a butterfly, describing landscapes of the Maremma the beautiful countryside and the sea, weaving a fabric of metaphors, concerning feelings about love and existence. The themes vary greatly, on the wings of imagination and inspiration, in her travels introspective, in dreams and in the past of one's own experience.

BARBARA DI SACCO è una poetessa italiana, nata in Toscana nel 1964. La sua poesia libera, vola come una farfalla, descrivendo paesaggi della Maremma la bella campagna e il mare, tessendo un tessuto di metafore, riguardanti sentimenti profondi, su amore ed esistenza. I temi variano molto, sulle ali della fantasia ed ispirazione, nei suoi viaggi introspettivi, nei sogni e nel passato del proprio vissuto.