Angela Schiavone (Italy)

When you come to my land

When you come to my land

I will know you because on this seat you listen to me.

A faceless listening, made from words.

Now we all live the same

bereft of the joy in encounter, in embrace.

But words have a strong taste

are all we can give one another.

My voice comes from an ancient sea-bound country,

great Rome’s emporium.

Honourary ships arriving from more parts of the world

to bring provisions, fabrics, marbles, animals.

The emperors’ Baiae was near.

Here were the most beautiful women,

here were born the most thrilling love affairs.

Yes, love, the force that makes you feel alive.

We should return to loving the other

to understand ourselves, to protect us and this land

this wonderful gift we destroy.

But land forgives and we change,

if we become worthy of being human.

I know not who you are listening to me,

man or woman, remember my words :

we’ll construct a new, better world.

When you come to ancient Puteoli

as soon as you say you’ve arrived I’ll understand

that this sad time is gone away.

I’ll be able to meet you half way, embrace you because you,

one day, seated on this seat listened to me.