Night of the Bat
By Sandro D. Fossemò
Translated by Luca Palantrani
A chiropter flutters round a lamppost...
which has gone out under distant stars
of this mountain village.
Those wings rotate magically,
which seem connected to a macabre ritual.
The night canines suck the poison,
which flows in the alien blood of regular humans.
The universe embraces the beat of my heart,
in these darks where there is no love.
The lamp lightens as the day past
and brightens the antiquity of a path,
that reaches a field isolated and dark.
There fireflies gleam with authencity...
as the divine spark
that burns now inside me with intensity.
Fly away, bat. Fly far away!
Spread your wings in the depth of the night,
where there is no empty daylight.
The Tomb
By Sandro D. Fossemò
Translated by Luca Palantrani
A skeletal hand holds a lantern,
to spread a glimmer into tombstones at night,
in that graveyard blacker than death.
I am tired of walking in the cold night light.
The rain bears a secret rhythm in the tinkle,
that resonates on the street through a pleasant melancholy.
No glow jnside those spectres...
They wander in a darkness never seen before,
where the soul shines no more.
We are locked in the cage by the eternal sleep.
Most saddening is nobody feels any anger.
If I lived with people plenty kind-hearted,
then I could shun so much pain.
If I broke a wall,
then I could let holding on.
If I had a candle to perceive the smile of an angel,
then in this crypt I could escape the frost.
When a candle lights a grave,
in the wind my shadow dissolves.
The flame purifies the funeral air
and inside me burns,
in that magical warmth that time melts.
The Votive Candle
By Sandro D. Fossemò
Translated by Luca Palantrani
When the snow has painted a cemetery,
I see a marvelous mantle,
upon some mysterious sculptures.
The snowy white renders tombs prettier and blacker.
A few ghosts flow on the walls,
as if they were trapped by a gloomy screen.
Like a movie tape a thick darkness wraps me.
The moon seems a lamp hanging in the void.
In the unknown is hidden an evil director.
When I wander through the crosses,
in the dark I seek a speck of light from a votive candle...
but I meet a star by crystalline glow.
The living flame burns by my heart
and fills it with sparks of love,
that never vanish.
My soul flees on the wings of the angel,
to return to the starry vault.
Free I am of a damned illusion.
