Dialect Poetry of Southern Italy (Italian Poetry in Translation Book 2)

Like the River

I see you in the evening ─ the moon on sheaves of hay.
Even if miles away ─ I feel you like the river.
In the mud of the canebrake ─ the foam of the first kisses
is still a frozen lake: ─ the scent of common elder.
Winter grows more somber. ─ Hammers over holes.
The fire turns to ember. ─ You lead me with your glow.
A scent of common elder ─ in the mud of the canebrake.
You go out, you enter. ─ I feel you like the river.
Termoli, August 24, 1984
(Translated by Luigi Bonaffini)