And the eye’s shelter

Remind us,

Between those four walls,

The promise searches for you, for a place perhaps too small, for doors.

Giada Giordano, a poetess from Rome, Italy, shares her poetry

Giada Giordano was born in Rome in 1989. At thirteen she won the Honorable Mention in the National Poetry Competition “A flower for you”, organized by the Municipality of Cervia. In 2014 she was selected for the creative writing course organized by Rai Eri. In 2015 she won the Poetry Slam at the Rome Fringe Festival. Her texts have appeared in the online and paper magazines, and also on the “Journal of Italian Translation” of the University of New York, besides of the University of Mexico and in “La Repubblica” of Bari. A further poetic composition appears in the Archives of the National Center for Leopardian Studies. Some of her poems have been translated into Spanish by the T. Modotti Cultural Center. One of his texts appeared on the occasion of the anniversary of Verso Libero. Some of her texts are awaiting publication in the international magazine “Il Convivio”. She was a finalist in various poetry prizes: Tea Poetry 2015, Belli Prize 2016, Mario dell’Arco Prize 2017, Versus Sulmona Prize 2017 and Arcipelago Itaca Prize 2017.

Eye’s shelter

And the eye’s shelter

Remind us,

Between those four walls,

The promise searches for you, for a place perhaps too small, for doors

And even for feet, the doormat stretches himself out,

His mask says “Welcome” and he doesn’t

Have my keys, you say Corso Francia is only the name

It’s the Boulevards in the suburbs that illuminate us.

Then Rome switches itself off,

Behind closed doors, you and this house

Come back so you can deceive us,

And you can contain every letter

Of the name which you know and I guard.

***

Wretched the smile that sat worn thin

On the doorstep,

The heart was lamenting Yves Bonnefoy

Or perhaps that last journey with opened doors.

“Nous ne nous voyons plus dans la meme lumiere”

The voluptuous inconsistency of living

In a few days,

Like an apparition in a dream, you ask “what she will become?”

 The soul chases is reflection

An excuse, perhaps, to save ourselves.

***

I am, you say,

All the things you can’t see

In everything else

The body is like a shadow to its neighbors

It once again free, the night it abandon us.

In the dreams, you’re free too.

_________________

Published under International Cooperation with "Sinhd Courier"