Specular: an old poem

Penang. Malaysia, October 2019

“SPECULAR”

I turned my head toward the sun
of your womb that was setting
saying goodbye to the last seagull
hiding in the clouds of the skin.
I will break the silence by pointing to the sun
and even if you don't want it
I will love you.

 

I will love you

and even if you don't want it

I will break the silence by pointing to the sun

hiding in the clouds of the skin.

Saying goodbye to the last seagull

of your womb that was setting

I turned my head toward the sun.

28 November 1992

It is thought that love poems can only be written thinking of someone in particular, on the wave of a love that is felt in the moment.

I believe this is a big mistake.

There is a long tradition of poetic thought, ranging from Sufism to some of Tagore's most splendid verses, in which love is celebrated and recognized as an ocean that knows no shapes or directions, other than its being water itself.

This is a poem from 1992, and besides being a linguistic virtuosity– which I don't know I would still be able to do – it's a feeling I still share many years later.

At that time it was undoubtedly a poem dedicated to a particular girl, even if I don't remember who she was. Still, over the years, even as I got older, I realized that giving banks to that mass of water is unnatural.

As Gibran wrote: “Love which is not always springing is always dying.”

Writing love verses should be a daily exercise, even in moments of solitude, because in the end, the heart is a muscle, there doesn't have to be a reason or a single person to beat, otherwise, it atrophies like a dry leaf.

Love is like a stormy sea, like a tsunami that overwhelms everything and everyone, love, even if they don't want it...

Italian version