Sunday, September 27, 2015

rifugiati



ma per le lacrime
un bambino può piangere
la sua infanzia è stata rubata da lui
scartato sui binari
un straccio insanguinato lasciato alle spalle
un altro passato prosciugando
che soffia attraverso i traversine ferroviarie

scorpioni danzano sopradi raffreddamento pietre grigie
Egli li guarda venire se fossero giocattoli
egli non può avere
Gli occhi scuri di sua madre detengono
l'idea di casa
per illuminare il percorso di domain
attraverso le ombre scure e crudele

ma come il filo spinato taglia profondamente
terrore indebolisce la sua speranza
lei non si lascia andare la mano di suo figlio

Barry DeCarli
25 Settembre 2015
Su Hammond Pond
© 2015 Barry DeCarli
Draft # 2- translation with much help from Google Translate

http://barrydecarli.blogspot.com/


Friday, September 25, 2015

refugees


but for the tears
a small boy may shed
his childhood has been torn from him
discarded on the tracks
a bloodied rag left behind
another past drying up
blowing across the oiled ties

scorpions dance over the cooling grey stones
he watches as if they are toys
he can not have
his mother’s dark eyes hold
the idea of home
to light the path ahead
through the dark cruel shadows

even as the razor wire slices deep
as terror tempers her hope
she does not let go of his hand


Barry DeCarli
September 25, 2015
On Hammond Pond
©2015 Barry DeCarli

Draft #2


Friday, September 18, 2015

lost message


the scarcity of time becomes
too much to waste.
still the pain lasts
and grows
as cells turn too brittle
too emaciated to hold a good memory.

no wonder we miss the sign
pulsing against our eyelids.
the message we won’t accept
takes too much time to get through:

some forgetful god is unable to shape an answer other than

no.

Barry DeCarli
May 19, 2010 & September 18, 2015
On Hammond Pond

©2015 Barry DeCarli