Davide Cortese

  Under the skin

I have forays of disquiet,
migrations and flights of desires,
wanderings of sadness.
Under the skin, without mercy,
a fiery solitude burns
my teeming multitudes.
An icy flame
grazes me with cruel truths.
A fire without love
that burns as love.
My skin is ash of poetry,
My heart a burning coal,
a scorching black bread
for the hunger of a mysterious demon.
Iím the berry of a smiling pain.
The black fable of a woman of snow.
Enshrined by a secret,
i breathe the salt of a forbidden journey.
I caress the spectrum of the lover,
together we keep silent my chant.
Translation by Fabiano Balzamin

© Author

(Published in Kafla Intercontinental - Summer 2015)