by Franco Beltrametti
     translated by Stefan Hyner

I
Five homes in six months
When I was living at the Bellevue
In Fall
Streetcars and hurried masses
Crossed my footpath to work
In the morning

II
When I was living at Weiten Gasse
The old man who repaired
Used typewriters
And the Venician who restored
Fake antique Furniture from Appenzell
for the Romanian dealer named Gesi
Crossed my footpath to work
In the morning

III
When I was living
In Dielsdorf in Winter
Next to the big disued quarry
Birds squarrels deer
Crossed my footpath to work
in the morning
And the stationmaster
Of the tiny station
Dreamt about future progress
A loutspeaker:
On platform 73 departs
the express train for Vienna and
The Orient Express is just arriving
Platform 21
Local train
To Solduno
Platform 27 closed under construction
For station extension
I took the train from Platform 1
And on Platform 2
Taciturn farmers used shovels
To fill freight cars full of apples
In icy wind and snow
When I was living behind Mythenquai
(Return! to the city!)
At the lake
Old Ladies clad in black
Dragged along by small nervous dogs:
Managers
of insurance companies
Who looked at me
Full of wickedness
Crossed my footpath to work
In the morning

IV
When I was living at 12 Oberdorfstreet
In spring
Beer delivery men
Baker printer
Girls
     Italian
          Greek
               Spanish
Just done with work
On the floors of the bars
Eyes like black and green olives
Hurrying home
Crossed my footpath to work
In the morning

V
One month later, end of April, I crossed the mountains again
In southern direction.

by Franco Beltrametti
     translated by Stefan Hyner

Dear Raffaello, the war had started
the Roman legions sowed
the counter revolution in Etruscia.
From the hills
above San Vincenzo
(entrenched behind the friendly shoulders of Volteras)
one looks out
for pirates on the sea. Plays chess
and already then the kept me imprisoned
the queen
          in one corner
          chained to a knight
          in range of a pawn
Outside Settimo was smoking
under a olive tree
leaned against a small tractor
prepared for cultivation.
          When
a box car came up between cypress trees
one got out said: Comrades
the house is confiscated.
f…..bastard
you said
now that I’m winning
this swine’s saving your queen
— admit it — she is pressed rather hard
in that bolted corner
by the knight, the pawn and
by your mistake.
— Je regrette — the former one said
beaucoup. Shortly the commissioner
          will arrive
          he doesn’t like
          (between you and me)
          he doesn’t like
chess, this occidental game
for urbanities —
My friends
said the Chinese commissioner,
I only come to see
Korsika from the balcony
and the white Tunis along the sea
no reason to worry.
This confiscation
is a habit
of the revolution the house
is allocated to you for life.
And finally, o sculptor
one more notification:
You are nominated
as commissioner of the arts
for Toscany, Tibet and Oregon
later sometime
when you feel like it
you create a monument
for the origin of Yin and Yang
the great sacrament
for a square in Peking.
For you architect
some work also: homes
for the miners and combatants
of Colonnata
and in the pine forest
a shop for salt, olives,
wine and cheap cigarettes.
But first
we must with all means
convince the Romans that
what they are craving for
is an illusion.

by Franco Beltrametti
     translated by Stefan Hyner

In Tanger
on the highest terrace
one drinks green tea and smokes
by sunlight
in harsh white.
In the basement
there’s shade and coolness.
There one throws oneself
between pillows and blankets
sleeps
waiting for the evening

translated by Stefan Hyner

On a truck
from Heraklion
eating little bananas
to suppress the tooth ache
in the back pack a blanket
a knife a wind breaker
a can of corned–beef
black bread two lemons
Kaddish by Allen Ginsberg
Antigone by Sophokles
and La Source grecque
by Simone Weil
  get out in Malia
     where, of the antique city
         between the sea and high bare mountains
            nothing remains anymore