In the black star of my destiny . . . — Web Exclusive

By Amelia Rosselli
Translated by Diana Thow

In the black star of my destiny
I have something that isn't this
versifying for good ladies or knaves
or deluded spent silent stars
or the hoarse vanity of being among the first
pointed out.

Atop the ship's swaying arbor
that adapted well to each wind
and returned ever quietly,
you repent.

But now you've magnificently chosen
your luck: drawing from the draw
an imaginary kiss, all
a trail of distinctions, vague
and elephantine.

Straight into the muddy void
never raise your voice, truly: when
pausing near your passion
you burned it.