Saturday, February 1, 2025
FRANCA COLOZZO: INTERVIEW
NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH
POET OF THE MONTH
FRANCA COLOZZO
FEBRUARY 2025
NILAVRONILL: Welcome to Our Poetry Archive, dear poet. And congratulations as the poet of this month.
FRANCA COLOZZO: I am honoured and touched by your warm welcome, dear NILAVRONILL, as founder-President of OPA
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?
FRANCA COLOZZO: In truth, without being aware of it, I wrote poems since the first cries of my school life. Having learned to read and write at only five years of age thanks above all to my mother who was a teacher, I carried on this passion of mine together with drawing. I remember the autumn leaves I painted mixed with a poem composed for autumn. Almost without realizing it, I was slowly entering the world of art and poetry and that's how my first love poems began to take shape when I reached 15 years of age. I loved learning poems by heart, as also imposed by the Italian former School System in force in middle and high school classes. My English and Italian literature teachers used to make me read in class the most important compositions from Dante Alighieri to Petrarca and poets of “Dolce Stil Novo”, up to Leopardi, Foscolo, Carducci, Pascoli, etc., as well as in English from Chauser to Shakespeare, Keats, Shelly, Wordsworth, Milton, etc. This was the beginning, interspersed with periods of stasis due to my work as an architect and teacher also abroad. Back in Italy, I started writing poems again for pure pleasure until I had the courage to finally publish them in online poetry magazines.
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?
FRANCA COLOZZO: Poetry has always been my muse, the regenerative force that often harmonizes with the sea, where I love to retreat in the summer on a solitary rock. Poetry and writing, as well as drawing and art in general, have always been an anchor in difficult times in my life. So, I live immersed in a dream. Poetry is the secret source that radiates the energy that keeps me alive. My complex poetic world moves between love, nature, peace and social justice. I am not a monothematic poet, but I am emotionally involved in all the events of this world. Especially pacifism and social justice are my flags that I try to wave against the abuses that we observe with apprehension and worry of new war escalations.
NILAVRONILL: As a poet, do socio-economy and politics in general influence your literary visions? If so how, and if not, why?
FRANCA COLOZZO: Environmental issues are at the heart of my actions and poems, not only through articles, blogs for UN DESA and UN SDG goals, participation in Zoom meetings, and webinars (four online courses with final exams and diplomas on Long-Term Economy, Climate Change, Sustainability, Stakeholders, and Smart City, followed during the pandemic years, with many articles published in foreign newspapers and on academia.edu). On a personal level, I have focused on waste recycling and caring for domestic animals, taking care of a feline colony for over eleven years. My commitment to society gained significant momentum in 2018. In fact, in March 2018, I was appointed Global Goodwill Ambassador (Virginia, USA) in the role of GGAF “Italy Chapter”. In March 2019, I became an INSPAD Ambassador of Peace and CEO of IHC (International Harmony Council), twinned with INSPAD (Institute for Peace and Development, based in Islamabad, Pakistan). I was also named Ambassador of the “Merle Rebirth Foundation”, an NGO in India focusing on the education of orphaned girls. Later, in 2022, I was appointed Ambassador of Peace by the United Kingdom’s GPLT (Global Peace Let's Talk), based in London and founded by Dr. Nikki DePina. Here, I serve on the Board for environmental issues, and European relations. Additionally, I am the Executive Director on the Board of the International Association RRM3 - RINASCIMENTO RENAISSANCE - Millennium III, founded and chaired by Prof. George Onsy (Egypt ). This latter is an international movement for peace and justice. With its awareness campaigns published regularly in connection with 200 journals worldwide, RRM3 works for a better world starting with a new European Awakening. This association, where I work actively and almost full-time, aims to tackle the difficult challenges of our world. I work alongside the Chairman through a large governing body of thinkers, writers, and media personalities who collaborate as both members of the European Council and the Intercontinental Advisory Committee. This ever-expanding movement continues to resonate with the call for a reawakening of European values, alongside those of the entire world. Especially now, as Europe finds itself on the brink of a potential nuclear war, feared to escalate into a third world war even by the Pope. To prevent this threat, we have supported the activities of the RRM3 founder-President, Prof. George Onsy, the Italian journalist Goffredo Palmerini, and my personal collaboration as Executive Director and a researcher, particularly in Ethics. I was nominated a scholar of the Ethics Academy, founded and chaired by Dr. Jeranil S. Anand (India). Coordinating various activities and disseminating them on social media is certainly not an easy role, but it is crucial.
RINASCIMENTO RENAISSANCE - Millennium III works for the future of Europe, addressing not only its rapid demographic changes altering its identity but also managing current and future conflicts, especially in light of recent events. The new RRM3 Magazine reflects the cultural message of peace and interfaith harmony that should be increasingly spread in our multiethnic and multicultural society to prevent the rise of terrorism driven by migrations and misunderstandings between peoples. Recently, I also became a “Human Rights Activist” Ambassador (Italy Chapter) for WIP (World Institute of Peace, Nigeria), founded by the active public figure Lamina. This has added Africa to the beloved places of the battles I have fought regarding migration and sea tragedies, also through my poetic contributions and feedback sent in the past to the European Parliament for the European Transparency Register.
NilavroNill: Is it possible to put into the words everything that as a poet you wish to express literarily? If not, why?
FRANCA COLOZZO: I think that freedom of expression is the basis of a poetic world without limitations of any kind. It depends on the poet's ability to convey emotions to the reader. But I think that today we want to artfully use vulgarity to amaze, shock, break the mold. Excess vulgarity often falls into a parody of poetry, far from being so when it is used in a blatant way to attract attention.
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?
FRANCA COLOZZO: According to Keats, beauty is both physical and spiritual. The perception of physical beauty involves all five senses, it is perceived in all its forms and arouses joy, in fact, in Endymion Keats writes: “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”, this joy leads to spiritual beauty (friendship, love, poetry). Physical beauty and spiritual beauty are closely linked, since the first is subject to time and will fade and the second is eternal. An artist will die but what he has created during his life will be immortal. Keats identifies beauty with truth as the only knowledge and ends Ode to a Grecian Urn with these lines: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all you know on earth, all you need to know” and it is this concept of beauty that makes him a precursor of the Pre-Raphaelites and the Aesthetes, who considered his cult of beauty as the expression of their motto Art for Art’s Sake. From Kurukshetra (King Kuru, the ancestor of the Pandavas), famous for the battleground where Lord Krishna preached the Bhagavad Gita to Arjuna, to the sad days of the launching of the first nuclear bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, up to the macabre present day with the genocide in Gaza, we can always glimpse a battle between the bestiality intrinsic in human nature and the divine spark that makes beauty and love the flower of universal harmony. This is what Keats' poetry tends to, uniting soul and body in the universal message of love.
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.
FRANCA COLOZZO: The fundamental elements of poetry are what make up the structure and meaning of the poem itself (such as rhythm, metrics, image, tone and language). An immediately evident element that allows us to distinguish poetry from prose is the verse, which we can consider the unit of measurement of the poetic text. So what are images in a poem? It is the rhetorical figure that aims to clarify a concept, comparing it with another that has an element of similarity with the first. In the figurative field, a similarity is obtained by juxtaposing different images that recall each other for some element of similarity either in form or in concept. I believe that in poetry, today more than ever stripped of its traditional guise, deprived as it often is of the verse thus making it more prosaic, there is the need to express an ethical message not directly but by proxy. Poetry should not appear as an edict or erudite commandment, but should teach a moral principle implicitly by implying the concepts. This is what I was taught in the five years of high school, which followed eight years of lower education. So, the images take shape metaphorically, sometimes even using flights of fancy that transport the viewer into a contracted or dilated space-time depending on the poetic message implied by the author.
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.
FRANCA COLOZZO: I think that language plays a fundamental role in the eventual metrics and expressive fluidity. For example, using a language rich in words and nuances like Italian, one can understand what influence and specific weight Dante Alighieri had in the panorama of world literature and how his Magna Opera was the DIVINE COMEDY, compared to a literary production that was not excessively prolific (Rime, Vita Nova, Convivio, De vulgari eloquentia, Monarchia, Epistole, Egloghe and other masterpieces). In the nineteenth century, with the Risorgimento, the patriotic idea of Dante as the father of the Italian language was imposed, with the addition of Petrarca and Boccaccio to constitute the fundamental canon of our literature. The Dantean terzina, or chained terzina, or terza rima, is the stanza used by Dante in the Divine Comedy. It is made up of three hendecasyllabic verses, of which the first and third rhyme with each other, while the second rhymes with the first and third of the following terzina. The Divine Comedy has been translated into many languages, but the Italian language is certainly the only one that best suits Dante's poetic ode. The translation of a poetic text into other languages can maintain the general poetic quality but, in my opinion, always loses something compared to the original. My experience as a multilingual translator, given my extensive linguistic knowledge from having passed over seven language competitions and as many language courses, including Turkish, has allowed me to understand the nuances that a poem can have translated from the original language. This, while not taking anything away from the poetic construct, can cause a poem to lose musicality, rhyme, fluidity compared to the original text.
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.
FRANCA COLOZZO: I believe that poetry is often dictated by an emotional outburst, but that above all it represents an individual growth over time. Beyond the outburst, there is an inner world and a complexity of interweaving and relationships with the outside world that obviously vary from poet to poet. My work experience as an architect and teacher, through foreign experiences, has had a complex path with periods of stagnation due to domestic, parental, professional care. However, I consider both my foreign experience and my work experience an enrichment, with deep-rooted technical-scientific and literary studies that have led me to overcome the nineteenth-century concept of a clear division between literary and scientific subjects, considering human knowledge as a whole in the Greco-Roman-Renaissance manner. I have made this point of view of mine explicit in several articles, even if nowadays there is an ever-increasing tendency towards a very clear specialization to the detriment of the individual's classical Forma Mentis, which derives from Greek philosophy, especially Socrates, Plato and Aristotle.
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.
FRANCA COLOZZO: In the above quote Eliot wants to demonstrate how none of us poets can define ourselves as original because we always owe something to our predecessor. There is a legacy of knowledge of jargon, rhyme, phraseological construction that make us obligated to others. A famous case, cited by me before, is that of Dante who opens the way to a new language: Italian. Precisely by using the Vulgaris (no longer Latin), he opens the way to the Italian language, but the legacy of the previous culture remains the canvas on which he builds new warp and weft. Ultimately, the poet is a bit like Ulysses who, while using usual tools, surpasses all human expectations. The Pillars of Hercules, however, are only surpassed by some greats who have treasured the experience of their predecessors to sail beyond all expectations. The originality of a poet remains this differentiating leap, but he owes his departure to his predecessors.
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?
FRANCA COLOZZO: The true poet is the one who makes a supreme leap to stem the dictates of the EGO. Today I observe a proliferation of poems without that cultural humus that should underlie the poetic world. It is essential not to be jealous of other poets and to try to penetrate the complex world that surrounds us. Therefore, it is not enough to declaim one’s inner feeling, but to stem one’s ego to save a cosmic humanitarian breath. In short, it is necessary to rise above one’s weaknesses to flow towards a unitary vision. Self-pity and consolation are not enough to change the world into a better place to live.
Dr. Arch. FRANCA COLOZZO (ITALY). Member of UIA - Union of International Architects | poet | novelist | retired teacher of Technology, Drawing, and Art History, also abroad, on behalf of the Italian Foreign Office (at I.M.I. in Istanbul, Turkey) | multilingual author and translator of about 18 books | freelancer | UN DESA & UN SDGs blogger | UN ECOSOC CSW67 member | GGAF (US) | WEF Lifelong Honorary Member | Peace Ambassador on behalf of different NGOs from India, Pakistan, Nigeria and the UK | on Board of GPLT – GLOBAL PEACE LET’S TALK (UK), founded and presided over by Dr. Nikki De Pina (London), nominated Director for Sustainability and Climate Change and contact person for the Transparency Register of EU Commission & Parliament| Blogger | Freelancer on Linkedin, national and international newspapers and literary magazines ATUNIS & AZAHAR, LA RECHERCHE etc.| member of the INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY of ETHICS, founded and presided over by Dr. Jernail S Anaand (India). She is very active on social media and YouTube| Founder and Admin of many groups on Facebook, and Linkedin: HSW- HUMAN SOLIDARITY WAVE, RRM3, etc. Awarded several times for peace and poetry at the national and international levels, she is recipient of n. 4 Honorary Ph.D. and was nominated Researcher and Executive Director in behalf of the International Association RRM3 – RINASCIMENTO RENAISSANCE - Millennium III, founded and presided over by Prof. George Onsy (Cairo, EGYPT).
FRANCA COLOZZO
The Slaughter Of The Innocents
Wings spread to the wind, they rise
In a silent procession,
Drifting like feathers,
They ascend into flight
From the hospital in Gaza,
Struck to the ground by a missile,
Tearing through its ancient heart.
They all rise together like Seraphim
Stolen from the games of another time.
The game of massacre now knows no end.
Crow's wings fly over the ruins,
Brushing against angel wings in the sky.
The evening turns pale
Amidst ghostly figures.
Only the rubble mourns the dead,
Dead without a true reason,
A common burial remains
For scattered limbs.
The children are no longer afraid,
The hellish roars fall silent,
Hunger and thirst fall silent.
By grieving mothers their creatures
Are offered to God as a gift.
From the altars of light, a dark image,
A sacrilegious land reveals
The infamous offspring of Cain.
LA STRAGE DEGLI INNOCENTI
Ali spiegate al vento s’alzano
In muta processione,
Van lievi come piume,
S’alzano in volo
Dall’ospedale di Gaza
Da un missile raso al suolo,
Squarci nel suo vetusto cuore.
Van tutti insieme come Serafini
Rubati ai giochi d’un tempo.
Gioco al massacro è ora senza fine.
Ali di corvo volano sulle rovine,
Sfiorano ali d’angelo il cielo.
S’accende pallida la sera
Tra sembianze di spettri.
Solo le macerie piangono i morti,
Morti senza una ragione vera,
Sepoltura comune resta
Di sparse membra.
Non han più paura i bimbi,
Tacciono i rombi infernali,
Tacciono fame e sete.
Le loro creature a Dio recano
Madri affrante in dono.
Dagli altari di luce, buia effige,
Terra sacrilega appare
L’infame progenie di Caino.
©Franca Colozzo
War Song
I inhale ambrosia and honey from the sun
Between icy lashings of mistral
My gaze goes to the ancient tower
Sentinel of the archipelago and the sea.
Cold February between scourges and screams
On the sleeping branch, the blackbird is silent
The cold breath blows to celebrate
The war in the heart of a fateful Europe.
From the distant islet, Fascist captivity,
The cry of the Founding Fathers reaches us
Now that inept Europe ignores the lesson
that comes from the shores of history.
Everything is wrapped in a song of mourning
Everything appears to me as an illusion
Now that in the general indifference
Even reason seems to be lost.
Translated By ©Franca Colozzo
CANZONE DI GUERRA
Aspiro ambrosia e miele dal sole
Tra gelide sferzate di maestrale
Va lo sguardo alla vetusta torre
Sentinella dell’arcipelago sul mare.
Freddo febbraio tra flagelli e grida
Sul ramo addormentato il merlo tace
L’alito freddo soffia a celebrare
La guerra nel cuor d’Europa infelice.
Dall’isolotto lontano, prigionia fascista,
Ci giunge il grido dei Padri Fondatori
Or che l’inetta Europa ignora la lezione
che viene da passate sponde della storia.
Tutt’è avvolto in un canto di lutto
Tutto m’appare come un’illusione
Ora che nell’indifferenza generale
Sembra smarrita anche la ragione.
©Franca Colozzo
BASTET Is My Name
I inhale your scent from galactic distances,
It smells of jasmine, the flower of repressed freedom,
Of sacred mountains and abyssal depths.
I inhale your essence brought to me by the wind
From worlds stolen from the stars.
Who am I?
Am I cosmic dust or a dream lost in the meanders of time
Blighted on the shores of yesterday?
Who am I to judge others
Or be by others judged?
Today I no longer find myself among humans,
Perhaps among those of yesterday or tomorrow...
I no longer know who I am.
Truly, to be born human would be good
if the taste of truth did not leave us here lost
In the ephemeral emptiness of ideals.
Today I find myself defending cats guilty of being born
In a world polluted by humans,
Made imperfect by the foolish idea of perfection,
Of believing they have power over everything,
To destroy, annihilate, dictate
An order made insane by madness. Bastet watches me from the past
And I find myself Cat-Goddess among Egyptian Sphinxes
In procession in ancient Thebes.
Who am I?
Perhaps, a dream suspended over an abyss
Between ghosts of yesterday and a thousand lives?
I have found you again, impossible dream,
Far away you appear to me, yet close to me,
Stretched toward astral worlds,
Inscrutable vital essence!
Are time and space
Nullified by quantum laws?
You belong to the past,
Present you are in my dreams.
Who am I? BASTET, my name is.
Translated By©Franca Colozzo
BASTET mi chiamo
Aspiro il tuo profumo da distanze galattiche,
Profuma di gelsomino, il fiore della libertà repressa,
Di montagne sacre e profondità abissali.
Aspiro la tua essenza portata a me dal vento
Da mondi rubati alle stelle.
Chi sono io?
Son polvere cosmica o sogno perso nei meandri del tempo
Arenato sulle rive di ieri?
Chi sono io per giudicare gli altri
O essere dagli altri giudicata?
Oggi non mi ritrovo più tra gli umani,
Forse tra quelli di ieri o di domani...
Non so più chi sono.
In verità, nascere uomini sarebbe bello
Se il gusto del vero non ci lasciasse qui smarriti
Nell'effimero vuoto di ideali.
Oggi mi ritrovo a difendere gatti colpevoli d'essere nati
In un mondo inquinato dagli umani,
Reso imperfetto dalla stolta idea di perfezione,
Di credere di aver potere su tutto,
Di distruggere, annientare, dettare
Un ordine reso insano dalla follia.
Bastet mi osserva dal passato
E mi ritrovo Dea-Gatto tra Sfingi egiziane
In processione nell'antica Tebe.
Chi sono io?
Forse, un sogno sospeso su un abisso
Tra fantasmi di ieri e mille vite?
Ti ho ritrovato, sogno impossibile,
Lontano m'appari, eppure a me vicino,
Proteso verso mondi astrali,
Imperscrutabile essenza vitale!
Sono il tempo e lo spazio
Annullati dalle leggi quantiche?
Tu appartieni al passato,
Presente sei nei miei sogni.
Chi sono io? BASTET, mi chiamo.
©Franca Colozzo
Crossing Over In Red
When I die, dress me in red
To celebrate the joy of my crossing over.
Jasmine flowers in my long hair
To meet woodland and sea nymphs.
Give me a rosary in hand as a prayer
To God so that He may forgive my sins.
In the afterlife, we are all equal and brothers,
Men here struggling in grotesque battalions
Of puppet warriors in rows of demons.
When Atropos cuts the thread of life
Let eternal youth smile upon me.
Scatter incense on my bare feet.
I will encounter galaxies in vivid colors,
Touch Selene in a flash of light
And carry a ray of sunshine with me.
When I die, do not weep, I beg you,
Let my dress be of a cheerful color
A spark of life lit in the darkness.
Trapasso in Rosso
Quando morirò, mettimi l’abito rosso
Per celebrare la gioia del mio trapasso.
Fiori di gelsomino tra le lunghe chiome
Per incontrare ninfe boschive e marine.
Dammi un rosario in mano come prece
A Dio affinché i miei peccati perdoni.
Nell’aldilà siam tutti uguali e fratelli,
Uomini in lotta qui in grotteschi drappelli
Di fantocci guerrieri in file di demoni.
Quando Atropo reciderà il filo della vita
Lascia che m’arrida l’eterna giovinezza.
Spargi incenso sui piedi senza calzari.
Incontrerò galassie dai colori sgargianti,
Sfiorerò Selene in un guizzo di luce
E porterò con me un raggio di sole.
Quando morirò, non piangete, vi prego,
Sia il mio abito d'un colore allegro
Una scintilla di vita accesa nel buio.
©Franca Colozzo
Wait For Me
On The Threshold Of Time...
I was not alone at the edge of the forest, beyond the hedge ...
I was not uncertain of the light on the path.
Stumbled, fell? Am I guilty perhaps?
But you were there at the bottom holding out my hand.
Light suspended feather I proceeded in the wind,
Wandering here and there among impervious slopes
Light leaps like flapping wings,
Angelic appearances are always next to me.
I talk to them, and voiceless voices answer me,
The silence is made of spirit and musical essence.
You closed in the silences, let time pass
In the hourglass, Insensitive biological converter,
Mocking us, defenceless men from certain death,
A dark corner where we always get lost.
A calm ocean is this time in its stagnant stillness,
Rippled with life, sparks moving,
Soft waves in a crescendo that dies ashore,
A flood of thoughts oscillates between being and becoming.
But I'll stop the moment before the edge,
Elusive moment, I will stop the moment to meet you
Beyond the thresholds of this inhuman time,
Plagued by the pandemic and war foolishness.
Beyond the space of this earthly life,
The mirror of infinite lives where I saw
Your gaze that I recognize among millions.
You will not be able to escape the inevitable fate...
Translated By Franca Colozzo
ASPETTAMI ALLE SOGLIE DEL TEMPO...
Non ero sola al margine del bosco, oltre la siepe…
Non ero incerta luce sul sentiero.
Inciampai, caddi? Sono colpevole forse?
Ma c’eri tu là in fondo a tendermi la mano.
Leggera piuma sospesa procedevo nel vento,
Ondeggiando qua e là tra impervi declivi
Balzi lievi come battito di ali,
Angeliche presenze sempre accanto a me.
Parlo con loro, mi rispondono voci senza voce,
Silenzio fattosi spirito, essenza musicale.
Tu, racchiuso nel silenzio, fai scorrere il tempo
Nella clessidra, insensibile biologico convertitore,
Beffardo verso noi uomini indifesi da morte certa,
Angolo oscuro in cui ci smarriamo sempre.
Oceano calmo è il tempo nella sua ristagnante quiete,
Increspato di vita, scintille in movimento,
Crescendo di onde flessuose che muoiono a riva,
Marea di pensieri oscillanti tra l’essere e il divenire.
Ma fermerò l’attimo prima del nulla,
Inafferrabile istante, fermerò l’attimo per incontrarti
Oltre le soglie di questo tempo disumano,
Afflitto dalla pandemia e dalla guerra.
Oltre lo spazio di questa vita terrena,
Specchio d’infinite vite dove incontrai
Il tuo sguardo che riconosco tra milioni.
Non potrai sottrarti all’ineluttabile fato…
©Franca Colozzo
FRANCA COLOZZO
Dr. Arch. FRANCA COLOZZO (ITALY): Member of UIA - UNION OF INTERNATIONAL ARCHITECTS | former Teacher od Drawing and History of Art, also abroad in Istanbul (TURKEY) on behalf of the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (M.A.E.) | Poet | Writer | multilingual author| recipient of n°4 honorary Ph.Ds | highly internationally awarded | Freelancer | UN SDGs & UN DESA Blogger | member of UN ECOSOC (CSW67) | GGAF (USA) Italian Chapter | WEF- Lifelong Honorary Member | Executive Director for Sustainability, Climate Change and contact person for the Transparency Register of the European Commission and Parliament, on behalf of GPLT - GLOBAL PEACE LET’S TALK (London, UK), founded and chaired by Dr. Nikki De Pina | Member of the INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY of ETHICS, founded and presided over by Dr. Jernail S Anaand (INDIA) | Executive Director of RRM3 - RINASCIMENTO RENAISSANCE - Millennium III, founded and presided over by Prof. George Onsy (Cairo, EGYPT) | Founder of many groups on social media | Researcher on www.academia.edu
ADA RIZZO
Light In The Darkness
In the silent night, a cry
Another story of stolen dreams
Fragments of life cast aside next to a woman who weeps for her body, her soul
No more smiles, no more promises
Shattered dreams rolling on the ground like beads from a broken necklace
She is a warrior without weapons, yet even so violated, she is not an object, a shadow in the dark,
She will rise again as she is the strength of those who do not give up, she is the mother, the witch, the sister, the daughter, she is all of us women who fight to shine.
She is a full moon of light, an explosion of fire.
She is the infinite woman, the creator of life who defies every pain and from the darkness… is reborn!
Una luce nel buio
Nella notte silenziosa, un grido
Ancora una storia di sogni rubati
brandelli di vita buttati accanto a una donna che piange il suo corpo e la sua anima
Non più sorrisi, non più promesse
Sogni infranti che rotolano in terra come perline di una collana spezzata
E’ una guerriera senza più armi ma anche così violata, non è un oggetto, un’ombra nel buio,
Si rialzerà perché è la forza di chi non si arrende, è la madre, la strega, la sorella, la figlia, è tutte noi donne che lottiamo per risplendere.
E’ una luna piena di luce, è un’esplosione di fuoco.
E’ la donna infinita, la creatrice di vita che sfida ogni dolore e dal buio… e rinasce!
Women
Women who uphold an uncertain and suspended world
Women whose arms, if lowered, would cause the very sky to fall
Do you see them? They are as strong as white cliffs battered by the Maestrale winds of life
Do you hear them? Often, they sing in the dark, but they are not crazy; they summon courage to chase away fear.
And at night, they dream of a buttery future that they will spread on their slices of bread at breakfast in the morning, adding love for their children.
They are strong because they have had no other choice, but they need a warm embrace, time, and tenderness to confront the violence that dances in the dark.
In the silence of night, they dry their tears, gather their dreams, and keep them like small glimmers to illuminate a dawn that is yet to come.
Their hands interweaved threads of courage, strength, and fragility like weft and warp of an invisible fabric that wraps around and supports their souls.
As the world moves at the mercy of the winds, the women remain steadfast and radiate light like a beacon in the midst of the storm.
One, none, a hundred thousand women walking lightly and unrelentingly along their path, shining because they have chosen to denounce the violence disguised as love...
they have chosen to continue shining despite everything.
Donne
Donne che sostengono un mondo incerto e sospeso
Donne che se abbassassero le braccia il cielo stesso cadrebbe
Le vedi? Sono forti come bianche scogliere sferzate dal vento di maestrale della vita
Le senti? Spesso cantano al buio ma non sono folli, si fanno coraggio per scacciare la paura.
E la notte sognano un futuro di burro che la mattina a colazione spalmeranno sulle loro fette di pane aggiungendo amore su quelle dei loro bambini.
Sono forti perché non hanno avuto altra scelta, ma hanno bisogno di un abbraccio rotondo e di tempo e di tenerezza per affrontare la violenza che danza nel buio.
Nel silenzio della notte si asciugano le lacrime, raccolgono i sogni e li custodiscono come piccoli bagliori per illuminare un'alba che deve ancora venire.
Le loro mani intrecciano coraggio e forza e fragilità in un ordito invisibile che avvolge e sostiene la loro anima
Mentre il mondo si muove in balia dei venti, le donne restano salde e irradiano luce come un faro in mezzo alla tempesta
Una, nessuna, centomila donne che a passo leggero e inarrestabile percorrono il loro cammino e brillano perché hanno scelto di denunciare la violenza travestita d’amore…
hanno scelto di continuare a risplendere nonostante tutto!
ADA RIZZO
ADA RIZZO was born in Sicily in 1960. Her life is built on solid roots and traditional values. Optimistic, cheerful, curious, and creative, she is interested in art and psychology. She loves to cook and adores music. After a thirty-year career at IBM Italy, she decided to reinvent herself. For several years now, she has been a Life Counselor with a humanistic-relational approach and a Facilitator in Mindfulness. In 2021, she published her first novel with a strong autobiographical tone titled “Volevo il tacco dodici?”, which received an honorary mention at the intercontinental literary award “Le Nove Muse.” She wrote the introduction to the poetry collection “Il Rumore dell’acqua” by Italian poet Andrea Ruiu. In 2022, she published her second novel “Iris Ali di Vetro,” which addresses the delicate topic of eating disorders (ED). In 2023, she published her third novel “Novanta battiti al minuto”, a true story that tackles the sensitive issue of heart transplantation, for which she received the Jury Prize at the “International Literary Art Award Cygnus Aureus 2024”. In 2024, she published “Ventiquattro Carati”, where she addresses the theme of gender-based violence, a work awarded at the “International Literary Art Award La Via dei Libri”. Due to the subjects covered in her books, the author has received several recognitions, including the “International Award for Peace and Human Rights Defense Italy 2023” , the “Civic Merit Award for Solidarity and Inclusion of People with Disabilities 2023”, "Solidarity Award for Art and Civic Engagement 2024", “Reconocimiento Internacional Mujer Destacada 2024” for her dedication to art, culture, peace, and social justice in the world. In 2024 she participated in the international cultural project for peace and the defense of human rights, from which the anthology “Art without Borders” was born, a poetic collection that brings together 36 international poets and artists. Her piece "Nel silenzio del mondo" is part of this anthology. Life has taken her everywhere; Love has brought her home.
ANGELA KOSTA
The Lost Empire
Like a centuries-old tree
Uprooted from the veins of Mother Earth
abandoning dreams and projects
locked inside a suitcase without a key.
Unconscious I crossed the sea
Filled with my tears,
Still on the dancing, dizzying waves,
where hope hurt my own world,
Getting wet to the core from the dew
that envelops my thoughts,
scattered who knows where,
or to that distant country.
Running away from the misery of the past
I stepped over the clouds of my existence,
Entangled in the trap of desire
towards a better future.
Going astray, another person I saw in me
without finding that "I" anymore,
and another language I heard
hugging everything without arms.
The broken roots,
So far,
Regret the call of my homeland
of my life, as well as of many others.
I... suspended in the air
I stand out the flight in black and blue
In a different, unknown sky
Nourishing my lungs
With the icy wind of the storm
not being able to warm me
from the grey sun of the ocean
Traitor like the moon
that no longer caresses me,
therefore I become incapacitated
hungry, set without food or water.
As an immigrant, I remain in the middle of the two countries
Just wishing to come back
Where I came from
in the middle of the trees
that my grandfather planted.
I... for centuries
still in search of the lost empire.
L’IMPERO PERDUTO
Come un albero secolare
sradicata dalle vene della terra madre
abbandonando sogni e progetti
chiusi dentro una valigia senza chiave.
Inconscia varcai il mare
riempito dalle mie lacrime,
ferme sulle onde danzanti, vertiginose,
dove la speranza urtava il mio stesso mondo,
bagnandomi fino al midollo dalla rugiada
che avvolge i miei pensieri,
sparpagliati chissà dove,
oppure verso quel paese lontano.
Scappando dalla miseria del passato
scavalcai le nuvole della mia esistenza,
impigliata nella trappola del desiderio
verso un futuro migliore.
Smarrendosi, un'altra persona vidi in me
senza trovare più quell'io,
e un'altra lingua udii
abbracciando tutto senza braccia.
Le radici spezzate,
fin qui,
rimpiangono il richiamo della mia patria
della mia vita, così come di tanti altri.
Io... sospesa nell'aria
spicco il volo nel nero azzurro
in un cielo diverso, sconosciuto
nutrendo i miei polmoni
con il vento gelido della tempesta
non poter scaldandomi
dal sole grigio dell'oceano
traditore come la luna
che non mi accarezza più,
perciò divento inabile
affamata, settata senza cibo, né acqua.
Immigrata rimango in mezzo ai due paesi
desiderando solo di ritornare
da dove fossi venuta
in mezzo agli alberi
che mio nonno piantò.
Io... da secoli
ancora in cerca dell'impero perduto.
Lapsus
Smile between your teeth
torn core
A strip of torment
anthem without notes
Echo off between screams
burning on feet wet with tears
on the ground of ash and rubble
bowels scattered everywhere
breathless voice
clash against the future
Indulgence denied
into the abysses of itself.
LAPSUS
Sorriso tra i denti
anima lacerata
lembo di tormenti
inno senza note
eco spento tra le urla
ardente su piedi umidi da lacrime
al suolo di cenere e macerie
viscere sparsi dappertutto
voce senza fiato
urto contro l'avvenire
indulgenza negata
negli abissi di se stessa
Moreover...
I will love you in silence
knowing where you will find me.
I will be beyond the only companion star
witness to our madness.
You will find me beyond the moon
she, our favorite guest, much desired.
I will be beyond the cloud
cradle of my brief happiness.
I’ll be beyond the sun
that maybe one day
he will ease my anguish.
I will stop for a long time to relive the moreover
where the wind will carry your whispers.
I will watch the water flow
and i’ll get wet from your lips.
I will find you knowing that you will be there.
And me?
I’ll be there, in the palm of your soul
standing still for fear of having become mute
vanished into thin air.
On the waves of the sea
i’ll find our breath
your smile on my mouth
your look in my tear
your beats on my heart
your fingers in my hair
your eyes on mine...
Forever!!!
OLTRETUTTO...
Ti amerò in silenzio
sapendo dove mi troverai.
Sarò oltre l'unica stella
compagna, testimone della nostra follia
mi troverai oltre la luna
ospite nostra preferita, tanto desiderata.
Sarò oltre la nuvola
culla della mia breve felicità.
Sarò oltre il sole che forse
un giorno scioglierà le mie angustie.
Mi fermerò a lungo a rivivere l'oltretutto
dove il vento porterà i tuoi sussurri,
osserverò lo scorrere dell'acqua
e mi bagnerò dalle tue labbra,
ti troverò sapendo che ci sarai.
Ed io?
Sul palmo della tua anima ci sarò
ferma per paura di essere diventata muta
svanita nel nulla.
Sulle onde del mare
il nostro respiro troverò
il tuo sorriso sulla mia bocca
il tuo sguardo nella mia lacrima
i tuoi battiti sul mio cuore
le tue dita tra i miei capelli
i tuoi occhi su i miei...
Per sempre!!!
ANGELA KOSTA
ANGELA KOSTA was born in Albania and has lived in Italy since 1995. She is Executive Director the magazine in print MIRIADE, translator, essayist, journalist, literary critic and promoter. She has published 22 books: novels, poems and fairy tales in Albanian, Italian, Turkey, French, Arabic and English. Her publications have appeared in various literary magazines and newspapers in various states. Angela Kosta translates and writes articles and interviews for the newspaper in various states. Is Ambassador of Culture and Peace in various organizations no profit in various states. Angela Kosta has been translated and published in 33 foreign languages and countries.
ANGELA KOSTA è nata in Albania e vive in Italia dal 1995. È Direttore Esecutivo della rivista cartacea MIRIADE, traduttrice, saggista, giornalista, critica letteraria e promotrice. Ha pubblicato 22 libri: romanzi, poesie e fiabe in albanese, italiano, turco, francese, arabo e inglese. Le sue pubblicazioni sono apparse in diverse riviste letterarie e giornali in vari stati. Angela Kosta traduce e scrive articoli e interviste per il giornale in vari stati. È Ambasciatore della Cultura e della Pace in varie organizzazioni no profit in vari stati. Angela Kosta è stata tradotta e pubblicata in 33 lingue e paesi stranieri.
ANTONELLA TAMIANO
My Beloved Land
Wrapped in dew
slowly announces itself in the first rays
Beloved land of mine
With your fresh and intoxicating perfumes
With your beauties whoever you enchant
High cliffs, wild
by the steep descent
embrace beaches
Silvery, washed by two seas.
Fraternal meeting
of impetuous waves, handkerchief of the world
is the Salento,
of baroque charm, of peculiar arabesques.
You dance barefoot with irregular steps
spicy notes laden with passion.
Spread deep within
nourished emotions.
‘Pizzica’ disheveled by the swirl of tambourines,
are poems and stornelli.
In the shade of an olive tree
rejoices this heart of mine
my beloved land.
embraced by the wind, kissed by the sun.
I let myself be lulled by the impetuous motion of the sea
where the body joins the soul.
AMATA TERRA MIA
Arrochita dalla brina
lentamente si schiude ai primi raggi
amata terra mia.
Dai profumi freschi e inebrianti
con le tue bellezze chiunque incanti.
Alte scogliere, selvagge
dalla ripida discesa,
abbracciano spiagge
argentee, bagnate da due mari.
Fraterno incontro
di impetuose onde, fazzoletto di mondo
dal fascino barocco, di arabeschi particolari.
Danzi scalza con passi irregolari
note speziate e grondanti di passioni.
Elargisci nel profondo
nutrite emozioni.
“Pizzica” spettinata dal turbinio di tamburelli,
sono sguardi poemi e stornelli.
All’ombra di un ulivo
gioisce questo mio cuore
amata terra mia.
Lambita dal Vento, baciata dal sole.
Mi lascio cullare dal moto increspato del mare
là dove il corpo si congiunge all’anima.
A Child's Dreams
In a child's dreams
there is a red train that runs fast.
A bag of candy
marshmallows
and a packet of stickers.
In a child's dreams
there is a green meadow with a swing,
many colourful flowers to weave
and garlands to wear.
In the distance you can also see the sea
with sailing boats, blue and yellow.
A wonderful world lives
in the dreams of children.
In that clean soul
dwells only joy and tenderness.
There is no war, there is no hatred
In the dreams of a child
there is a corner of the sky always blue
where one can dream and hope
in a better tomorrow.
I SOGNI DI UN BAMBINO
Nei sogni di un bambino
c'è un treno rosso che corre veloce.
Un sacchetto di caramelle
marshmallows
e un pacchetto di adesivi.
Nei sogni di un bambino
c'è un prato verde con un'altalena,
tanti fiori colorati da intrecciare
e ghirlande da indossare.
In lontananza si vede anche il mare
con le barche a vela, blu e gialle.
Un mondo meraviglioso vive
nei sogni dei bambini.
In quell'anima pulita
dimora solo gioia e tenerezza.
Non c'è guerra, non c'è odio
nei sogni di un bambino
c'è un angolo di cielo sempre azzurro
dove si può sognare e sperare
in un domani migliore.
I Will Always Be Waiting For You
I will visit you before dawn
in your last dream,
the one you never remember.
I will speak to you opening my heart
And you will kiss my forehead.
You will smile at me and hug me tightly.
Each time I will visit you
To talk to you, to shake your hands,
to smile together and be close.
You will forget me during the day
And I will wait for the night,
So I can knock on your dreams.
Wait for me, always wait for me.
I want to dance tonight
With your beautiful eyes
Reflected on my heart
TO MY FATHER
TI ASPETTERO SEMPRE
Verrò a trovarti prima dell'alba
nel tuo ultimo sogno,
quello che non si ricorda mai.
Ti parlerò aprendo il mio cuore
e mi bacerai la fronte.
Mi sorriderai e mi abbraccerai forte.
Ogni volta verrò a trovarti
per parlare con te, per stringerti le mani,
per sorridere insieme e stare vicini.
Ti dimenticherai di me durante il giorno
ed io aspetterò la notte,
così potrò bussare ai tuoi sogni.
Aspettami, aspettami sempre.
Voglio ballare stasera
con i tuoi occhi belli
riflessi sul mio cuore.
A MIO PADRE
ANTONELLA TAMIANO
ANTONELLA TAMIANO is an Italian painter and writer. She holds a degree in Cultural Heritage and teaches Italian, history, geography and art history. She has participated in numerous art exhibitions, both in Italy and abroad, winning several awards. She has illustrated several books of fairy tales, collaborating with several publishing houses. She has published eight books including novels, storybooks and poems. Her books have been adopted as reading texts in schools and have won numerous awards. Many of his short stories and poems are included in anthologies both in Italy and abroad.
Antonella Tamiano è una pittrice e scrittrice italiana. Laureata in Beni Culturali, insegna italiano, storia, geografia e storia dell'arte. Ha partecipato a numerose mostre d'arte, sia in Italia che all'estero, vincendo diversi premi. Ha illustrato diversi libri di fiabe, collaborando con diverse case editrici. Ha pubblicato otto libri tra romanzi, libri di racconti e poesie. I suoi libri sono stati adottati come testi di lettura nelle scuole e hanno vinto numerosi premi. Molti suoi racconti e poesie sono inclusi in antologie sia in Italia che all'estero.
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