Saturday, February 1, 2025

LUCILLA TRAPAZZO

 



My Mother (July 2020)


My mother is sitting next to me at the doctor’s

My mother is here and she's not really here.

She's missing some pieces.

One day she lost her teeth, then her hearing.

She lost a breast, a lung, her hair.


My mother lost the trains the buttons and her mother

and the childhood.

One day my mother lost a son

(other she let them go).


My mother holds her name in her pocket

it once was worth banners.

A country has my mother and a house

overflowing with butterflies.

My mother has three birds; she keeps them tied to her side

with cords of various colors.

When the wind rises, they hit her flank

in attempt of a flight.


My mom has rhinestone bars and smoke volutes

among her asbestos hair. My mom has a crease on her face

and a padlock. My mother has a pain and a rosary.

A branch planted on her neck and an empty grave

between her father and her mother.


My mother has three daughters

and better verses than mine. 


My mother is in the mirror, and she looks me in the eyes.


Mia Madre


Mia madre è seduta accanto a me dal dottore

Mia madre c’è e non c’è per davvero. 

Le mancano pezzi. 

Un giorno ha perso i denti,  poi l’udito. 

Ha perso un seno, un polmone, i capelli. 


Mia madre ha perso i treni i bottoni e sua madre 

e l’infanzia. 

Un giorno mia madre ha perso un figlio 

(altri li ha lasciati andare).


Mia madre ha in tasca il suo nome 

che un tempo contava vessilli. 

ha un paese mia madre e una casa 

che trabocca farfalle. 

Mia madre ha tre uccelli che tiene legati alla vita 

con cordoni di vario colore. 

Se il vento si alza le sbattono addosso

in azzardo di volo.


Mia madre ha barrette di strass e volute di fumo 

tra i capelli d’amianto. Mia madre ha una piega sul viso 

e un lucchetto. Mia madre ha un dolore e un rosario. 

Un ramo piantato sul collo e un loculo vuoto 

tra suo padre e sua madre. 


Mia madre ha tre figlie 

e versi più belli dei miei.


Mia madre è allo specchio e mi guarda negli occhi. 


My Daughter Doesn't Like Stripes


Mom, you dress like a pirate

surprised and a bit chanting

used to tell me as a child


I, on the contrary, wear them everywhere – on sweaters

on scarves on trousers

(vertically, though, to sublimate height)

wide stripes, narrow stripes, intermittent

parallel and perpendicular

in cacophony of sound and color

but also in black and white

when necessary - stripes


what a chaos – what a delight


My daughter, on the other hand, loves straight lines

defined by two points

that don't change reason 

with the folding of a river – she loves asymptotes 

and ellipses

and she loves the mice of her laboratory

and bacteria in anaerobic chambers

my daughter loves precise numbers

coherent – cosmic spirals

that both of us surprise and rise

they rise, up they go 

in geometry of stars


And maybe there, in the dust of the cosmos


maybe there one day 

that’s where we’ll meet.


A mia figlia non piacciono le righe 


mamma ti vesti da pirata 

sorpresa e un po’ cantilenante

mi diceva da bambina


Io invece le metto dappertutto – sui maglioni 

sui foulard sui pantaloni 

(in verticale, però, per sublimare altezza)

righe larghe righe strette intermittenti 

parallele e perpendicolari 

in cacofonia di suoni e di colori 

ma anche in bianco e nero 

all’occorrenza - righe


il caos – ma che delizia


Mia figlia invece  ama le linee rette 

definite da due punti 

che non cambiano ragione 

con i fiumi – ama gli asintoti  le ellissi 

e ama i topi del suo laboratorio 

e i batteri nelle camere anaerobiche

mia figlia ama i numeri precisi 

coerenti – spirali cosmiche 

che entrambe ci sorprendono e salgono 

salgono 

in geometria di stelle


E forse lì nella polvere del cosmo 


forse un giorno li 

ci troveremo


It Happens Just By Chance 


as it always happens 

a foot that slips and the hip that crumbles

- it’s just the female destiny - and then


my grandmother's body clinging to life 

barely an animal and a thread of functions 


      - did you poop today? -


defined by absence the thought disappears 

it disappears the word, and disappears

the name


the idea remains of her 

her legacy and witnesses: an ancient notebook 

of prayers, a black and white picture with child

hundreds of lace

and her curved shoulders


it remains of her the flesh - last leaf 

clinging to the branch – it remains 

the primary urgency of hunger 

the primal life

taking the form of her knotted hands


the surplus surrenders to the water

awaiting for the lightning 

the supreme thunderbolt of the cosmic 

quantum marking the way home 


metamorphosis of petals 

in the wind


Accade così per caso 


come accade sempre 

un piede in fallo l’anca che si sbriciola

destino femminile e poi


il corpo di mia nonna aggrappato alla vita 

appena un animale e un filo di funzioni 


     - hai fatto la cacca oggi? -


definito dall’assenza scompare il pensiero 

scompare la parola scompare pure

il nome


resta di lei l’idea 

lascito e testimone un quaderno antico 

di preghiere una foto luminosa con bambino

pesca e a centinaia i merletti

e le sue spalle curve


resta di lei la carne – ultima foglia 

al ramo – resta primaria

l’urgenza della fame la vita primordiale

che prende la forma delle mani


l’eccedenza si abbandona all’acqua

in attesa di folgore suprema del quanto

cosmico che è ritorno a casa


metamorfosi di petali 

nel vento


***The poems of this manuscript are the most intimate of my collection: dedicated to crucial people (and moments) of my life. From the motivation of the second prize “Poesia da tutti i Cieli”, Messina 2021 for “My Mother”: “The balance of the lyric ego takes place between the courageous, firm pronouncement of the truth and its translation into the symbolism of figurations that, apparently abstract, center it in substance and are parallel to the clarity of its scansion, generated by a manifest language, without appeal. […]”


LUCILLA TRAPAZZO


LUCILLA TRAPAZZO: (Switzerland/Italy) Award-winning poet, translator, artist and performer. After years spent abroad, studying and working (DDR, Brussels, Washington DC and New York City), she now lives in Zurich, Switzerland. Poetry editor, translator and collaborator of several international magazines, co-editor of various international anthologies, Lucilla Trapazzo has co-organized and moderated poetry events, international festivals, and art exhibitions for international associations. Her poems, translated in 18 languages, won numerous prestigious awards (among which laureate poet of Naji Naaman Literary Awards, Lebanon 2021 and of Korca Poetry Nights, Albania 2023), and have been published on important international magazines and anthologies. She is regular guest of international poetry festivals, among which Struga Poetry Evening 2021 (N. Macedonia); Princeton Festival, 2021,2024 (USA); Babylon Festival of Arts 2022, 2024 (Iraq); Kistrech Poetry Festival, 2023 (Kenya). Convinced supporter of human rights and the planet, her social and feminine point of view is reflected in many of her writings. Seven her books of poems.


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