Davide Trame is an English teacher from Italy. He was born in Venice, where he still lives. He wrote his first poem in English to the school where he teaches today to celebrate a successful student strike that was in 1993. His poems have been published since 1999 in some 200 literary magazines in England, the United States and other countries and he appreciates the support of publishers such as Carole Baldock (Orbis) and Sarah Maclennan (In the Red) misconduct. His poems have appeared recently in Poetry New Zealand, New Contrast (South Africa), Nimrod (USA), and in the Prague Literary Review.
Mara Tues Domenica
abundance
He's back, the fiery stripes on your table,
it is higher now, in the morning out on the opposite chimney
he gives your shoulders through the window,
a taste the illuminating time is coming.
Despite the promise of a scorching heat,
you say it welcome unconditionally
You praise still the bright unframed face
and you can not feel you near
Hindu Moeche sitting cross-legged,
in a row on the beach, the reds and yellows of their
Westen und Gesichter voll leuchtend
im ausgedehnten grozügigem Licht,
während sie die Gebetsperlen vor der See berühren,
ihre Mantras wispernd, nicht wiedergeboren zu sein,
und Rinnsale von Sand strömen weg im Wind.
Nein, du kannst sie überhaupt nicht verstehen
dein Herz ist “geschnürt an ein sterbendes Tier”, kein Zweifel,
aber du fühlst dich gesund mit Verlangen,
sitzend an deinem warmen erleuchteten Tisch,
deine Arme abgelegt auf die geschmeidigen sonnenbeschienen Ritzen aus Kirsch-Holz
mit zeitlich erneuerter, zurückkehrender Hautfarbe.
Übersetzt von Anna Barbara Braun
Überfluss
Er ist zurück, der feurige Streifen auf deinen Tisch,
er steht nun höher, frühzeitig draußen über den gegenüberliegenden Dach,
er gibt deinen Schultern, durch die Fensterscheibe,
einen Vorgeschmack auf die leuchtende Zeit, die ansteht.
Trotz des Versprechens einer stechenden Hitze
wirst du ihn willkommen heißen, ohne Zurückhaltung.
Lautlos preist du den ungerahmten glänzenden Gesichtsausdruck
und doch kannst du dich nicht den Hindu Mönche
verbunden fühlen, die mit gekreuzten Beinen
in einer Reihe am Strand sitzen, das Rot und Gelb
ihrer Gewänder und ihre Gesichter voll erhellt
im ausgedehnten, großzügigen Light, while
slide the prayer beads in the face of the sea through her fingers and her mantra
whisper to be born again
and fractions of sand in the wind blow over.
No, you can not understand,
your heart is "a dying animal attached", no doubt,
but with desire you feel healthy
by you sitting on your warm-lit table,
your arms rest on the smooth , sunlit cherry wood strips to the renewed
time, returning skin color.
Translated by Mara Tues Domenica
lavishly
It is back the glowing strips on your table,
now it is higher early in the morning on the opposite roof,
and enter your shoulders through the window
a foretaste of the coming brilliant time.
Despite the promise of a scorching heat
welcoming you there, unconditionally.
praise Still you the unframed glossy face
And can not you close feel
the Hindu monks who succession
sit cross-legged on the beach,
the red and yellow of their robes and glowing faces
in broad soft light,
while touch the coral from the sea, whispering
born again, not their mantra to be
and sand grains continued to flow in the wind.
No, you understand they can not even
Your heart is one, dying animal 'is fixed, no doubt
you feel but healthy with life urge
as you sit in your warm lighted table,
your arms on the sun- irradiated fine cherry wood lines
refreshed on a homecoming complexion of the times.
Translated by Valentina Codevilla
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