ROSY GALLACE

 

The Expired Time

 

It wasn’t the highway kilometers

that made us feel distant.

It wasn’t the labor

or the cost of the tolls.

 

It wasn’t even

a round trip on an easy jet.

It was our thoughts

so distant… and… different.

 

Our time has traveled

between parallel lives

chasing each other, never meeting.

 

Our thoughts intertwined

with the days filled with loneliness;

now, they’re here in their nakedness.

 

Our time has expired.

 

For once, without finding any holds,

let’s look at each other through sincere

eyes and beyond words, let us listen

to the rhythms of heart, let’s shake

hands, be real, let’s just be ourselves.

 

The Bill Is Served

 

Scraps of paper

left here and there

in every corner of the house.

 

Pieces of life, of stories, of love

collected in one sentence

My love forever.

 

Fifteen years,

love in the chest, irrepressible

explodes in the air, in the skies,

crossing the cities.

 

A withered flower

between the pages of a book.

 

Wrinkly hands

barely raise it

my love, my life, the end.

Please, the bill is served

in the last piece of paper.

 

Lost In The Fog Of The North

 

The wind had calmed down that time too,

and the smell of linden trees covered the silences.

Thoughts still chrysalis awaited crimson skies.

 

The reeds moved the clouds,

and we traveled in the most innocent dreams

between ears of wheat

and the red cheeks of poppies.

 

That was our time,

a stirring of words and sounds, like lightning

before the thunder in the light that lived there.

 

The floral skirt, the heart out of the chest,

and you taking a flight

to explore new shores in boundless horizons.

We had the cosmos in our hands.

 

Then, that time,

the kites that flew lost their colors.

The stars crumbled

like slate dust in our hands.

Thus, we got lost in the mists of the North.

 

That was when we got old.

Now, memory also weighs

in this strange morning light.

 

Translated Into English By IRMA KURTI

 

ROSY GALLACE

 

ROSY GALLACE was born in Guardavalle in the province of Catanzaro in Calabria and lives in Rescaldina, Milan. In the 1960s she moved with her family to Legnano, Milan, where she studied and worked. Since her youth, she cultivated a passion for writing poetry and stories. Beginning in 2011 she participated in national and international literary contests and won numerous prestigious awards, including the Culture Award in 2014. Her works have been included in several anthologies of contemporary poetry in Italy and abroad. Rosy Gallace is the creator, organizer, and president of several literary contests and poetry reading sessions along with book presentations. She also juries various literary competitions. She has published several books of poetry: “Small fragments”, “Remaining days”, “Unspoken words”, “Traces of memory”, “Beyond the words” and “Transparency and Light”. Her books have been translated into English, Albanian and Romanian Languages.