Elisa Biagini

from watering the plant
of dreaming (dialogue
with Paul Celan)

Fingers all eyes
to feel you swim,
drown,
my thoughts
stained by the sound of bees,
 
your voice
rises from the water:
its skin covered with pins.



Le dita tutt’occhi
per sentirti nuotare,
annegare,
pensieri miei
tinti dal rumore d’api,
 
la voce tua
sale dall’acqua:
ha buccia di spillo.