Mia madre ha cuore dolce
e profondo, ma sa esser
letale – come vocale
nell’acuto di un tenore.
Sempre presente, perfino
quando non vado a cercarla
od in preda a turbamento
non mi sento di parlare.
Autentica e acuminata,
colpisce dritta alla gola
senza indecisione alcuna,
per amore o per disprezzo.
Per lungo tempo non ebbi
un padre, finché mi venne
annunciato che l’ora era
giunta di incontrare il mio.
Attraverso lui conobbi
la gentilezza – le cose
dette per salvare gli altri
dall’imbarazzo del vero.
Dopo trent’anni e più, sono
sempre qui a sbucciare quella
sua corazza di sensi,
come foglie da un carciofo.
Quanto a me, buoni pensieri
nella mente possono esser
traditi da spigolosi
tentativi di ironia.
Non accetto di affermare
i miei diritti per mezzo
di scuse, riconoscenza
o richieste di favori.
Eppure, a volte mi colgo
a chiedere Quando vieni
a trovarmi? e ringraziare
dunque il paradiso giacché
nessuno dice Domani!
Published May 26, 2022
© Antonietta Bocci 2021
Mother’s heart is tender
and deep, yet she can be
lethal – like a vowel
in a tenor’s high note.
She’s always there, even
when I do not visit
or am feeling distraught
and don’t fancy talking.
Authentic and sharp, she
will go right for the throat
without hesitation,
be it for love or hate.
For long I did not have
a father, until I
was told the time had come
for me to meet my one.
Through him I discovered
kindness – the things said to
rescue others from the
embarrassment of truth.
Thirty-plus years later,
I am still peeling his
armour of meanings, like
leaves off an artichoke.
As for me, the gentlest
thoughts on my mind can be
betrayed by sharp-cornered
attempts at irony.
I refuse to assert
my rights through gratitude,
apologies, silly
requests for courtesies.
At times, though, I do catch
myself saying You MUST
come for dinner and then
thanking my stars for not
being asked At what time?
Published May 26, 2022
© Antonietta Bocci 2021
两栖者
Written in Italian by Antonietta Bocci
Translated into Chinese by Antonietta Bocci and Xu Lilong
我母亲有温柔且深沉的心，
但她也可以是致命的——
像歌唱家的高音那样。
她总是在那里，
即使我不去找她
或感到烦恼
并不愿意说话。
真实并尖锐，
她毫不犹豫地一剑封喉，
不管是为了表达爱情还是蔑视。
很长一段时间，
我都没有父亲，
直至我被告知和他见面的时机到了。
通过他，
我发现了善良——
为了抢救别人说的那些话，
这样他们不必面临真相带来的尴尬。
三十多年后，
我仍然在剥开他的意义盔甲，
像竹笋的外皮那样。
至于我，
连脑海中最客气的想法
也会被犀利讽刺企图出卖。
我拒绝通过
感谢、道歉或者求助等方式
来维护自己的权利。
然而，有时我发现自己在说
“下次我来请客！”
谢天谢地没人之后回答
“什么时候？”
Published May 26
© Antonietta Bocci and Xu Lilong 2021
© Specimen 2021
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Languages
Following my first few encounters with the English language as a teenager, I – an Italian native speaker born and raised in Italy – fell in love with it and pursued it as a major at University; I then spent several years working as a linguist between Nigeria and China, always feeling my Italian identity very strongly.
It was only when I settled in the UK twelve years ago that I started realising how complex it is to be a linguistically and culturally hybrid human being: just like parents, over time Italian and English have forged my personality, each through its own strengths and weaknesses. And like every child must eventually do, in this poem I reflect on my linguistic identity as a clumsy attempt to reconcile a two-fold legacy, trying to embrace what I enjoy about it and accept what I have absorbed from it in spite of myself. Considering the different natures of Italian and English (more complete vs more concise), it felt just natural to write this Italian poem in longer (eight-syllable) verses and then create an English version made of shorter (six-syllable) lines. Although the poem was first conceived in Italian, the English version is not a mere translation of it: rather, it was born out of the original but then engaged in mutual contamination with it, eventually becoming an independent being.
– Antonietta Bocci
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