ET DIMITTE NOBIS DEBITA NOSTRA

NOTHING ("Nada",English version)

(A SHORT NARRATION IN THE POETIC PROSE FORM.TRANSLATION IS MINE,TOO)

Shadows fall quickly over this part of the old,one century old village.. And no wonder: it has always been so.

And it must have been true even in my absence.

The door is as I remember it.I bring the image depicyed by the dust of my anger arousing in my tired heart.

Anger and sleepless, deep longing, frustration, futile ordeal.

Who I am, or what I am ..... I've already almost forgotten.

I hear a flutter close, and I know they are the same birds, unable to understand the reason for my departure, I still criticise the absence:my own absence.

I've been that (absence)and nothing more:

There are petals on the staircase leading to the door, now closed. The smell of dead roses surrounds the familiar lair..There is that smell ,and another adour of burned sugar crushed with the bitterness of one thousand erbs in the mortar of my chest .

Sugar burning :those were your eyes ,sparkling upon the garden herbs, amongst scents and stars.

A memory.

You had a nocturnal name...you had the name of a silent cloud..You were shadow ,and the silvery clamour of bells in the evenings. You were. .... you were the everything...my everything... ... and you were nothing and nowhere.

The nearly century old woman, eternally stitching an ancient mantle, leaning out her window, three houses back, told me that you left in an indefinite day, at an unknown time.

I believed it,Orly because I was the one which departed first, I believed it.

In the empty pond where we used to feed the fish while we were Laughing died of an ultimate death: dirt, branches and countless falling autumn leaves remarked the passed time as a relentless clock.

I climb the stairs, and I stop at the door.I remain standing on the cracked stride,under the lintel, under the lamp that seems to have burst into pieces, in the light that no longer shall turn back on, because ....

Because it's simple.You are no more.And I know that you no longer shall return.

It doesn't matter,even if from within the entrails of death leading to a climax I can still hear your cry....

And those tiraed bowels,weary from so much crying can already respond like an echo....

Although the dialogue begun under Grandfather's apple has never ceased, although the cherry trees that lived on the other side of the fence are now just dying skeletons, though heaven itself has conspired to darken suddenly.

I was the one who began.I,myself.I am the guilty one.

You were the victim ,the recipient of my madness.

Now that there is nothing left ... Now, that everything has been consumed by dragging waves of time, I can feel you in the cross padlock that closes what was the paradise of our solitude surrounded by cherries.

Silence and roses died in the perfumed air:they were a a goodbye that never materialised into words, because .... I .... myself,whom wanted to be  the hero, the slain champion of the poor and vulnerable ones , I...I was unable ..or (better) I didn't want to protect what I loved the most.

I came to say goodbye, and only the echo of this lost step receives me in this stretch of skeletons covered with roses on the ladder.

I came to say goodbye.

I am not ashamed to say that I, myself, almost without knowing it, for the first, last and only time in my life, I also cried.

As you wept in silence, not daring to utter a word beyond the regularly established,habitual convention of mutual silence.

One night was enough to make you break:one night was enough to break the innocent charm of raids around Grandfather's old apple tree.

It exploded like a burning cristal. And I didn't know.

Or maybe I didn't want..O, perhaps (but just maybe!) both.

I don't know where you are, and it hardly matters.The words I'm sorry!" died on my lips before being pronounced.

But it hurts in the chest as the last sharp finch of pain.

The branches of madness dragged my existence.

Goodbye,Soirée. .HAve a calm night in your hands ,and have also your moon..Keep it,, embrace it, contemplate it .... and finally sink ..descend into it.

Your moon (the both of us loved it!) is the end of the agreement .... and the only way to make me your stars.