mercoledì 19 febbraio 2020

Christmas Eve

by Sandro D. Fossemò

(Translated from Italian to English)

The red tent frames
the lively and vivid painting
of the Christmas landscape,
on the faintly foggy glass
of the window.

The reindeer roam
on the white blanket
that ripples
on the eve of the sunset,
in all its beauty.

    The lights pulse
in the company of snowflakes
falling like confetti
on roof tops and pine trees.
  I admire the crib
in the ruined chapel,
under the glossy
transparent icicles
clinging to the branches.
The nativity scene is all lit up
in a crumbled arch
by a lantern shining bright
like a star.
Between the ox and the donkey
the light shines in glory
as it embraces the Saviour!
The smell of straw and moss
is so strong as to seep into my veins. 
The sweet song of a violin
enchants the mountains,
dotted with villas and snowy towers.
   That bottle of wine,
hidden in the web, all dusty,
inebriated my soul.
Celebrations worshipped with the songs
and joy of farmers.
Real men! 

    The fire in the old fireplace, burning at the back,
infuses my heart with warmth.
The flame burns, perpetual and voracious,
lapping around the log of oak.

The breeze blows on the candle stand, over the wings,
leaving me in the dark,
with the memory of a real kingdom.
A magical dream of the angel,
released in white marble.
A gift from eternity...

    In the darkness of night,
in a room without wandering shadows,
and with forgotten wreaths.
The ringing of the bells breaks the silence...
The grey screen of a sleeping television
in a brooding and absolute vacuum,
together with an icy skull.
I grit my teeth to hold back the pain...



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