I’m not Carmen Mola that everyone until now thought was a married female professor, living in Madrid, and who won the Planeta Prize. It turns out that the writer is three men. (New York Times, Sunday, October 31, 2021, Vol. CLXXI, No. 59,228, page 4.)
Don’t fuss too much. Look here, just like in a supernatural story, a spirit can manifest itself and write a novel or other written work. There have been Twilight Zone episodes where Shakespeare is brought back to life etc., and other similar devices. The “conceit” is sometimes necessary to write a fictional character in first-person.
So, indulge me. I have escaped from the blog-novel “The Blog That Would Destroy the World,” in order to write poetry. So has my friend Diane. I am the temporary High Priestess, an ordinary female Dictator.
This is just a friendly reminder that the narrator of a poem is not necessarily the same as the author, just like the characters in a play are not the same as the actors. It is said by my followers that “She is a fair Dictator, and a great poetess, but we don’t like her foreign name, “Zawmb’yee,” because it is hard to pronounce, and she doesn’t say it outloud herself.”
Well so, to make things worse, I’ve taken one of my poems and attempted to translate it into Italian. It’s probably a travesty.
Lei, l’Alta Sacerdotessa, scrive una poesia in italiano
Camminando Con La musica Dell’amore Che Canto
“Zawmb’yee Nuje”
Da lontano ho sentito il suo
basso profondo
Gli alberi erano pieni di soprani aviari
e dal svolazzando
i fiori di ciliegio sono caduti su di me
ha reso il mio cuore roseo a
soprano coloratura
camminai
nello scalpiccio della canzone andante,
un uccello aveva un verme nel suo conto
al dente in ondeggiamento
un trillo per la colazione
Ho canticchiato allegretto
ho sentito la risata del mio amante, e
un cardinale sollevò il suo
coda a ventaglio a me
quelle canzoni cinguettanti
canzoncina cinguettante
non per caso di notte
o sciocca canzone daffodil gialla
un’aria per me
il frivolo me,
Ho saltato un passo
Si voltò e mi vide
dal punto di incontro
Più vicino, ma non
abbastanza vicino
Ho fatto un entrechat
Alzò le braccia
il suo sorriso
Più allegro
Ho fatto un salto
Presto, ho corso
e saltò tra le sue braccia,
percussioni e bacio
—————–
(The English directly below is a literal translation. The original I put after this version)
Walking With The Music Of Love I Sing
From a distance I felt his
deep bass
The trees were full of avian sopranos
and by fluttering
cherry blossoms have fallen on me
made my heart pink a
soprano coloring
I walked
in the patter of the going song,
a bird had a worm in its account
al dente in sway
a trill for breakfast
I hummed allegretto
I heard the laugh of my lover, and
a cardinal raised his
fan tail to me
those chirping songs
twittering song
not by chance at night
or silly yellow daffodil song
an Aria for me
the frivolous me,
I skipped a step
He turned and saw me
from the meeting point
Closer, but not
close enough
I did an entrechat
He raised his arms
his smile
Most cheerful
I jumped
Soon, I ran
and jumped into his arms,
percussion and kiss
… … … …
** For the Music of Love I Walk **
From afar I heard his
basso profundo
The trees were full of avian sopranos
and from the flitting
cherry blossoms fell on me
made my rosy heart a
coloratura soprano
I walked
in the patter of andante song,
a bird had a worm in his bill
al dente in wiggle
a breakfast trill
I hummed allegretto
heard my lover’s laugh, and
a cardinal lifted its
fan tail at me
those chirpy songs
a twitty ditty
not whippoorwill of night
or silly yellow daffodil song
a dilly to me
dilly I,
I skipped a beat
He turned and saw me
from the rendezvous point
Closer, but not
near enough
I did an entrechat
He lifted his arms
his smile
Più allegro
I leaped
Presto, I ran
and jumped into his arms,
percussion and kiss
Poet Laureate of the Primitive Planets 