La Tettoia di Mio Padre / My Father’s Tool Shed

It is an modern Italian sonnet translated into English so the rhyme scheme is in Italian, not the English.

La Tettoia di Mio Padre

 

Gli attrezzi sono tutti in fila, ognuno

Nel loro contorno che mio padre ha disegnato

Col sharpie nella sua mano meticulosa.

I barattoli sono tutti appesi dagli scaffoli

 

Che lui he costruito pendono dalle loro

Coperchi, loro sono pieni di bulloni unti di

Oscuro olio, e le rondelle collcate fuori

Posto. Le lame sono ancora avvitate dentro

 

La sega che è seduta sbadigliando il suo sorriso

Arrunginato sul banco di lavoro che aveva raccolto

Il disordine disordante le donne fanno. Durante

 

Gli anni poiche lui è andato alla prigione, i sui attrezzi

Si arrunginano e i barattoli sono polverosi mano a mano che

La foresta mangia le cose che mio padre ha gettato via.

My Father’s Tool Shed

The tools are all lined up, each snug

Within the sharpie outline my father

Drew in his meticulous hand.

The jars are all hung

 

From shelves he built, suspended

From their captive lids, full of bolts

And misplaced washers, darkly oiled.

The blades are still screwed into the saw

 

That sits yawning its rusty smile

On the workstation that has slowly gathered

The mismatched mess women make.

 

In the years since he went to prison,

His tools rust and the jars are dusty

As the woods claim what my father threw away.

Reviews

[Shimmerbliss/CAF]

My Goodness, Girl! I am so jealous and getting nervous about posting with the likes of you! :) Seriously...you write in Italian, too? Well, THAT'S IT.
There is a lot to consider in this and if it is a biographical piece (not sure that is the correct word - see, I'm questioning myself!) then I know where the depth in your writing comes from. Isn't pain interesting? We think it will kill us, and then, somewhere down the line we have a poem to find closure.