From the book by Mariella Bettarini "Balestrucci. Un racconto in versi"
(Firenze, Edizioni Gazebo, 2006)

Here come the eggs - here come
they are five also this time - in the tender - in the warmth -
(...)
and therefore together
they raise to flight a morning - together
they stamp their pens towards
the light - in the vertigo
of the turned upside down abyss
together they go
now they fly upwards...
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The Love Of Year 2020

I feel I have a Poet lover
Who knows all of my untold poems
When I gave him my last poem
He had read it years ago
My lover is the most important poet I know

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Life
By Morteza Miraftabi
Translated from Persian by: Mahnaz Badihian

Every morning I wake up
With death next to me
Or in the middle of night
Death is in a window ,a mirror
Or a doorway shoulder to
Shoulder with me watches last night’s rain



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The Poet’s Biography
Sub: The biography of Nadia Anjoman, the respected poet of Herat-Afghanistan and a victim of family violence

By: M. Shafie Noorzaei, her brother, lecturer at Herat University (edited by Ren Powell)
Date: Jan 23, 2006

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Translated from Italian by: Cristina Contilli
IN THE NIGHT
Our bodies are melted
in the night;
the dreams blend

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My Heart Carries No Shield

My heart was forged in the fires created between two lovers
It grew and palpitated with desire through my childhood
and was nurtured by the gardens of my parents.
Today it pumps life through these young veins
Bringing sustenance and happiness to every cell and pore.
No shield protects the castle walls of this heart,
which is forever prone to the attacks of the cannons
of Love.



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I picked


I picked

I picked
the warm vapors
of the Autumn
in a sky
veiled of tenderness.

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Cristina Contilli

Dialogo della notte / Night Dialogue
Translated by Olivia Bisegna Maher


In the afterword to the collection of lines that make up the short poem called “Night dialogue”, the author Cristina Contilli explicitly states that her poetry is dedicated to love relationships that struggle to survive.

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Brother Iran

Brother Iran, I feel your pain.

I feel it as when the Turk fled Spain.

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Today I can write
My happiest poem
And I can enjoy birds happy chirps
Seed by seed
Even in this world which is
A Small sad planet

Today every strand of my hair
Is wrapped in a poem And the light
Flashing in my eyes
Brightens my hands
Even in the darkness of
These rushfull days

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Scent of wet earth : Poems by Cristina Contilli
translated by Olivia Bisegna Maher

SCENT OF WET EARTH

My poems,
translated in English
have the same scent as
wet earth in Autumn
after the rain.
a scent that wafts
through my imagination
along with the memories
of those mornings
when, still sleepy,
I opened my eyes wide
sitting at a high school desk.


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Betting on Hope
translated by: Anthony Robbins

Betting on Hope 04-08-06
Not to hide away on a happy island
Refusing to take notice of the terror
That all around is multiplied and floods the world.
In four weeks’ time, united together
Palestinians and Israeli Jews

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