MARLENE PASINI

 

MARLENE PASINI

 

Beginning

 

The dawn extends

its warm and silky transparency,

the moisture is filtered

through the pores of the earth.

 

Flowers, leaves and crusts

lacerate the ethereal

course of the days,

in the high breeze dusts fly

compressed memories and pollen,

mosses and lichens disrupt

their velvety silence.

 

Swarm offish routines

in an everlasting void.

 

From the weariness of those furry ivies

my eyes are infinite exiles

and thoughts burst like mauve.

 

Beyond the sharp smell of musk

permeates the air

and melts the resinous aroma of trees

and orange of the evening,

where the birds’ songs are scattered

and experiences diluted,

where ethereal dreams mature

and the absences sigh,

there we will return to the beginning.

 

In its intense indigo,

the night covers desires

of transient chimeras,

in the slow and transfigured step

of what’s always the same

we dissolve into intangible sequences.

there where absences gleam

we’ll go back to the beginning.

  

Spell

 

Lost ripple

in the glance,

inscriptions of the invisible

fall to the bottom of the dream,

badges from another time.

 

Fleeting wings dance away

among the branches,

every move

evaporates at the instant bonfire.

 

From afar the rumor of our steps

besieges the pond and its jade stillness.

 

Untouched blackness of shadows.

 

A last silent walks burning the darkness

 

Quartz of light

crossing a splendor of clouds,

reverberates in silent waters.

 

The Deep Sky

it’s an impassive crow’s song.

 

To dream

dissolved light:

spell.

 

Night Trip 

 

In the middle of the night

I cross the bridge without knowing

which shore will my soul reach

there are visions

there are echoes

there are memories

bursts of light open in a time without time

nameless paradises where faith is not enough

for an eternally written destiny

with ink torn from the shadow of mystery 

 

There is a lost music

that I hardly recognize in the middle of a road

in the middle of a field with stars

in the loneliness of the desert

when the wind blows

between the walls of a temple desecrated

by the greed of men

there are an impatient flock of birds

in a sea that leaves its purple foams

on beaches I may never return to 

There is a sound of words that no one recognizes sunk in the ancient roots of the night

the spell pronounced alone tearing agony

from trembling lips the resurrection

offering of a crucified heart

by the executioners of insanity

 

All these years

I walked lost streets questioning

the mysteries of life

leaving footprints in the mist 

 

All this time I waited by the brightness of your eyes by the fire of souls

that are recognized silent under the thunder

under the shadow

under the skies of mercy

among the ruins

between the white blanket of a berry forest 

 

All this time

I perfumed my body with the fragrance of roses

and the jasmine of bliss

to dance between the prediction of a late afternoon rain 

 

All this time

I filled my hands with the sweetness of honey

and pomegranates

to tattoo on your face and your memory a different story 

 

All this time

I have kept the taste of your name

under my closed eyelids

asking at the rhythm of dawn

by the joyful song of the nightingale

and be able to set fire with the kiss and the hug

that they crave the dark spell of alchemy

 

Where did you last see me?

You were there… in that lonely house of my dreams? 

 

There is a whisper of voices on a road

where you are

with the pulsating silhouette of an ancient tree

and angels who guard with their sword of truth cathedrals in the flowery mountains of the soul 

 

What moved me to follow the sibylline

call of the winds in the eternal circle of the abyss? 

All this time

I have sailed along the routes that the compass

of the soul marks

and when the day spreads its citrus scent

a whirlwind of ghostly cities

leaves its livid dust on my lips

unresolved questions for my traveling eyes

between so much footprint and swell  

 

Where will this journey continue to take me? 

When the limits of time break your chains abolishing pain and boredom

of a world that no one recognizes 

Where will I be? 

What else can I tell you about myself or my travels? 

Do you like nights with its moon dome over the river?

Do you like the sunrise with its violet-red-orange color?

Do you like the squares crowded with drums and dances?

Or the pounding of the hooves of a galloping horse its hour of legend?

Do you like the smell of orange trees wandering through the transience of life?

Do you like clouds that get tangled in women's skirts and eyes?

Do you like the pious prayer said in the solitude of the ancient temples?

Do you like the smell of coffee with your shot of fortune?

Do you like the tales of the Arabian Nights?

And do you like my travel book?

Give me your hand and listen to my voice that smokes like incense 

What else do you want to hear so you can fill your days and nights? 

What else do you want to hear so that the memories come back to me? 

What else do you want to hear so that when you die you remember me? 

Where will dreams go when this journey is over?

 

MARLENE PASINI