White

From a ways, the sky and your hands
come to my eyes, from some distant part of you;
it’s snowing out, you’re all in the white of the snow
every track in the candor a wound
and the field beyond the window is a body
a glance that becomes a pronouncement,
the heat of breath, your head adrift in sleeplessness;

that’s where it returns, in a word translated into silence
where the sparrows tie loose knots
your palms on your eyes, chest on your knees
forehead in the snow.
 
Translated from the Italian


Pierluigi Cappello, Azzurro Elementare © 2013 RCS Libri S.p.A., Milan
Source: Poetry (July/August 2016)
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