
The fizzy air of the end of August
moves the treetops of the spruces, slowly.
The smell of wood, forest, resin, and pastures is intense.It’s almost evening,
the herds are resting.
The last cowbell rings softly in the distance.Filled by the melting glaciers
Flowing, unstoppable, to the valley,
the river’s thundering is strong.Clack.
The Zippo lights up a soft red.
Slow and deep the first breath.Nostrils get inebriated just before the sip.
A ruby red chalice dances slowly on the fingertips.The tennis court already is at rest,
the beaten earth for bowling rests quietly,
the green ping-pong table, silent, drops off to sleep…
From The Microscope. A collection of snapshots immortalized with a pen, “Snapshot n. 1”.
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#TheMicroscope (Some Call It Poetry)
English translation: Starleen K. Meyer
Original Title: “The Microscope. Una raccolta di scatti immortalati con la penna” by Anna “Annina” Lorenzi.
Translated from Italian by: Starleen K. Meyer.
An “Original A19” Project.
Copyright ©2020 Anna Lorenzi. All rights reserved.