Paolo Stagliano’: Translated by Margaret Saine

BIO

Paolo Staglianò was born 1953 in Olivadi, Italy. He lives in Crotone, where he also works as an MD and a surgeon. His books of poems are: Il Foulard Rosso [The Red Scarf]; Coriandoli di Pietra [Stone Confetti]; Proxima del Centauro [Proxima of Centaurus]; Màthema; Gioco Tondo; and Hypnerotomachia. He has been published widely in poetry journals and on the Internet.

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BIO

Margaret Saine was born in Germany and lives in Southern California, where she taught Spanish. She writes poetry and short stories in five languages, and regularly translates other poets. She has written prefaces for seven books of poetry. Her books in English are “Bodyscapes,” “Words of Art,” and 5 haiku chapbooks, plus several poetry mss. to be published: “Reading Your Lips”; “The Five Senses: Erotic Poems in Alphabetical Order”; “A Love in Winter”; and “Music of Reflected Light: Water Poems.” She is currently working on a volume of ekphrastic poems about music, art, and literature. In 2015 she published her Postwar childhood memoir “Ungeschicktes Kind” [Awkward Child] and a book of poems, “Das Flüchtige bleibt” [The Ephemeral Remains] in Germany. Her poetry has also appeared in Italy, France, Chile, Mexico, Jordania, India, and the Philippines. Margaret Saine is an editor of the California Poetry Quarterly, called CQ.
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*Paolo Staglianò’s poems are translated from original Italian into English by Margaret Saine.

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[PER UN’AMICA]

ti ho cercato ricordo nell’ombra muta della stanza,
tra cose che tinteggiano il passato:
perché ritorni?
cosa cerchi ancora, cosa di quel tempo ti perdura
e ancora cede al corpo, ai nervi alla memoria,
il fondo ultimo nell’ ebbrezza di una storia]
vedi tutto si mantiene come allora:
nel silenzio delle cose tralasciate e fuori oltre
il davanzale: nuovi boccioli spuntano sui prati:
nuovi amori: calori rinnegati, lungo deserti
di esistenze lacerate: niente penso hai dimenticato
o qualcosa che rinnova, cerchi ancora in quel vissuto:
cimeli velati, segreti irrisolti: non vedi ?
[giocattoli: solo giocattoli rotti]
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[FOR A FRIEND]

I have looked for you, memory, in the shadow of the room,
among the things that are tinting the past:
why have you returned?
what are you still looking for, what of that time has lasted for you
still yielding to the body, the nerves, the memory,
the ultimate ground of a story’s intoxication]
you see it all, it maintains itself as it was then:
in the silence of neglected things, and outside beyond
the window sill: new buds sprout in the meadows:
new loves: a disowned warmth, along the deserts
of lacerated existence: nothing I think that you have forgotten
or are you still looking for something that renews in what has been lived:
veiled relics, unresolved secrets: can’t you see?
[toys: only broken toys]
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[PAESAGGIO]

non sai ancora
come ogni tuo procedere era colmo
di pienezze: paesaggio lieve di fredde aurore
polline sparso su prosperi crinali
dove in dolci essenze svanivano i colori:
o Sorriso o Canto come trattenerti
verde flutto lambito da briose brezze:
[questo noi eravamo ed ogni lembo del tuo esistere
era in me, dentro me: come inebriante infuso]
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[LANDSCAPE]

you do not know how filled
with perfection were all your
doings: the light landscape of cold sunrises
pollen sprinkled over splendid hillsides
where colors dissolved in sweet aromas:
o Smile o Song how to sustain you
a green flux caressed by playful breezes:
[we were like that and every seam of your existence
was in me deep inside: like an exciting infusion]
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[FANDANGO X]

Sole !
il piegarsi lento dello stelo nella fuga
dentro un prato: ed è miele,
la danza sbiadita delle viole:
una coppia annodata
nell’intimo di un ballo:
[X] : ecco un vento greve di
colore]
il suono cupo: sazio di destino
scala il tetto, sbatte contro i muri:
unica fonte d’un mite
che ristora: dentro il vico, avvolto
[da un puzzo] nemico dell’ umano:
volteggia al vento, ed è canzone:
il prillare della luce fioca d’un lampione:
cade inetto un grog caldo nella gola:
ho il paletot bagnato] !
bramerei [come in Manet]
una colazione verde
sopra un prato]
mi caverei sai lo spolverino greve di fango]
e con te: agiterei fino alla fine [di ogni fine]
nella stoltezza continua delle nacchere: un fandango.
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[Fandango X]

Sun!
the slow bending of the stalk in flight
inside a meadow: and the faded dance
of the violas is honey:
a couple entwisted
in the intimacy of dance:
[X]: here is a wind heavy
with color]
a dark sound: saturated with destiny
it climbs the roof, beats against walls:
the only source of a blandness
that restores: inside the hamlet, wrapped
in [the stink of] an enemy of humans:
it whirls in the wind, and is a song:
the twirling of the dim light of a lamp:
awkwardly a hot grog descends into the throat:
I have a wet coat]!
I would crave [as in Manet]
a green lunch
on the grass]
I would take off a duster heavy with mud you know]
and with you: I would flail until the end [the end of all]
in a continuous folly of castanets: a fandango.

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