MARIA MIRAGLIA

 

 

Strange Sensations

 

I wander in these rooms

with a strange sense of death

that grip inside

as if I were an unreal figure

I look at dear objects

arranged here and there

with the eyes of those who will come after me

and strangely I live the emotions

of those who will observe them

like things of the past

And there I seem to hear them

changed by time

hair whitened him

with some wrinkles on the forehead

and that air of eternal innocence

of those who have a good soul in themselves

the same fawn eyes as her

but that betray past youth

his face still sweet

as always

waiting for a smile

They speak of ancient moments

looking at a photograph

there forever

next to the silver candlestick

on the piano

also aged by time

I seem to perceive in their voices

a tone of melancholic nostalgia

Interspersed with pauses

as of who is granted

time to recall memories

kept in secret chests

And all that has been

review your mind

like a swollen river

that drags feelings and emotions

curtains that open

and then they close again

and infinite time

that runs through them all

@ Maria Miraglia

 

One Day In April

 

The air mild outside

clear the sky

and the house full of roses

giving off a delicate scent

spreading all around

a wonderful dress

was carefully laid on the sofa

white like snowflakes

just fallen down

enriched with pearls

pure as the maiden's heart

it was embroidered for

and the voices cheerful

wide the smiles

 

April has still come back

after so many

each bringing with them

soft air and flowers smell

but dark and empty those rooms

now

closed the windows

and deafening the silence

only broken by distant echoes

of the ancient voices that

once filled those spaces

with love and joy

@ Maria Miraglia

 

8th Of March

(Women’s day celebration)

 

Tastes of falsehood

the smell of these flowers

offered by the hands

that so many times

left marks on my body

as many as the clouds in the sky

In a winter day

nor do I recognize

this smile of yours

marked by wrinkles

of a man who faces life

dragging with him

heavy the burden of impiety

Printed in my mind

your evil gaze

say when

you blame me for

things never said or

things never done

pouring over me

your failures your defeats

I tell my pain

to the wind

the will to go

stifled is inside me

the cold you brought into my heart

chilly like the wind of Buran

the darkness in my soul

Like the arctic nights

and ripped you have my hope and

all my dreams

Of me

of the woman of once

Just a portrait remains

Hanging on a wall

In this faded-walled house

Where I wander as in a limbo

@ Maria Miraglia

 

MARIA MIRAGLIA