Annamaria Ferramosca, Rilke and the contour lines 
[
"I came across some lines which did not bend but took up colour" (Brussels 2011) . Photos of Marzia Poerio]
1.
Rilke's eighth ELEGY
The house has windows facing the sea to remember the source
the vortex calm the sails ancient
returns that in turn farewells
departures for other oceans
The garden pines' aleppo and olive
to accommodate those who do not know of the death
insects and birds, foxes
night, sometimes - Real estate-
also watch the sea as a blunder
mysterious
- animals never lay
death in the eye -
us we on the right and shortsighted
see the sky lit fires
and places where it rains she blindly
The dough rose fast
silent plugs are preparing to penetrate the meat
the sea to overwhelm the disorder
embraces mixed
shots despite the anguish from the cicadas sounded the tocsin
the branches from pine trees swallows flying
to the south, unperturbed
AFTER RILKE'S Eighth ELEGY
The house has windows to the ocean
know as to recall the beginning
the ancient vortex, calm, millennial sails
returns That turn to Farewells
Odysseys bound for other seas
In the Garden Aleppo pines and olive trees
welcome Those who know nothing of death:
insects and birds, foxes nocturnal Sometimes
- motionless -
also look out to sea
as if mysteriously dazzled
- animals never look
death in the eye -
we live with it by our side, shortsighted
see the sky light up with flames
and the places where
death blindly rains
The rose soon loses its leaves
in silence its thorns make ready
to pierce our flesh
the sea to submerge disorder
hugs are mixed with gunshots despite
the unease of cicadas
swarming in the trees
From the pines, swallows fly
south, undaunted
**********
2.
CURVE DI LIVELLO
Sebbene la mia carta sia disposta
with the top face north
not find neither East nor West
The paper seems to have dis-oriented
Nothing fixity map, except
attitude uncertain, tremulous
resistance drift
waved contours - yet I'm sober -
shocks, such as on a fault line in place
Loose points lines
no longer obedient to the order - all in line at the same level of the sea -
A new line comes together, glossy
lengthens,
lightning fast on paper, punch
fugitive trail of light flies
on our circle, slight
touches us in the forehead, chest
Aligned Movement, we shake hands
burn to clear invasion
flees, filled with light, a pilgrim
continents. We are looking
points - the same - level - love
CONTOUR LINES
Despi my map
Being laid out with the upper edge facing North
I can find Neither East nor West
By now the map dis-orientated Seems
Not a trace of cartographic fixity
except for an uncertain ability, resistance to a quivering
Being adrift
The contour lines wobble - even though I'm sober-
shaken, as if on an active fault
Points unfasten from the lines
no longer obeying order
- all in a row, at the same level over the sea -
A new line is drawn, brightly
stretches, swift
as an arrow on paper, piercing it
like a fugitive wake of light it flies
over our circle, softly
touches our brow, our breast
We hold hands in a row
burning with joy at the invasion
The line flees, laden with light, a pilgrim
of the continents. The search goes on
for points - on the same - level - as love
NOTA
Testi tratti da CURVE DI LIVELLO, in A. Ferramosca, OTHER SIGNS, OTHER CIRCLES: A SELECTION OF POEMS (1990-2009). Traduzione e introduzione di A. Crowe Serrano, New York, Chelsea Editions, 2009.
