Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Barbara Serdakowski

Sabbia nera - Black Sand

La main sur le ventre, les narines, les yeux! Hand on the belly, the nostrils, the eyes !

Didn’t you know that yesterday, today, tomorrow?

L’haleine comme la mousson avec son sable rouge en relief sur ma joue The breath like a monsoon with its red sand in relief on my cheek

Silly words, flies, moths Dense phlegm with changing colors

Against my naked (unveiled) awareness

Like a statue of white marble standing crooked on pebble stones

Hay tres caminos There are three paths

But I stay here Elephantine in my solitude I feel no more pain I have polished with tar blackened sand the tiniest of my senses

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