Marmara Sea dreams...

A poem by Franca Colozzo

 Under the sun, on my terrace

that looks at Noon,

over there at the cornflower

with intense cobalt lit,

between sparkling thoughts

I'm searching the quiet.

From the chalice of Dionysus

I drink the thrill of the light 

that in the throat it pours

in a song of sad sweetness.

A chime sound:

vibrates like a harp

under every wet wind

that tastes of salty breath.

I am flying over my sea,

harsh and wild,

over the winding maze 

of traverse streets, which

the past history has made

amid minarets and mosques,

Bazaar and ancient walls,

steaming puffs of boats

and suspended gulls

over the blue surface  

Topkap? from afar observes...

Islands and islands,

of Princes' residence,

placed on that sea,

docile prisoners' oblivion,

over you, as a seagull, I am flying.

Flies the image over time,

ignites of ancient flames

the Golden Horn, dressed

of burnt blood from the sun.

Hold a spark with your hand

that flickers in my serene mind:

nomad thoughts explode now.

I offer the chalice to the finded time,

to the past that presses without break.

I drink the sparkling air from the sky

that with difficulty Spring anticipates ,

cold breath February is blowing;

of January only sad memories

in my soul now I find.

Author: Franca Colozzo