PAOLA ALCIONI
Nata a Cagliari il 12 marzo 1955, laureata in Giurisprudenza. Vincitrice di numerosi premi di poesia in lingua sarda , di cui tra i più importanti si ricordano: Ozieri, Romangia, Posada. Sue poesie sono state tradotte e pubblicate in inglese, in tedesco e in galiziano. Collabora con “Il Giornale di Sardegna” e con alcune riviste culturali. Otto suoi racconti sono stati beds in a radio broadcast of RAI. Published: in 2003 the novel "Children of the King lost" with the publishing house The Mistral, the 2004 children's novel "The Secret of the abandoned house" and the novel Goodbye (in Sardinian language) written by the poet of Torpoint Antonimaria Pala, both for issues Condaghes.
Casteddu
Casteddu,
Logu de Diora
aundi strogat
imoi
you know who or soga my
pregontamí
fintzas deu
birth custas prajas
chen''e for
limúsinas to pediri
seu andendi
and downcast.
ink? A stràngiu up.
Casteddu
Achilles artivista
càstias who always torches up to
Maistrali
Naram de Cali
sentidu de sderruta
the loaves marigosu
s'eus junctions in intra
is Murallas ARTAS
who Nosu 'and you TOTU
pesaus to ingíriu?
de Cali fartas
s'eus to pertungi
fintzas to be a sigh spaciai
ghetai
CORU logu and dogn'àteru goods up to
Fogu
de s'arràngulu allenu? Sa
frida pampa 'and Maistrali
m'ap'a piga a de feli
of that blade, you little liberal acutza
-
de Dogna durciori mama, mama de
Dogna hopes -
de su pain' and passus
who is not a lompint Nudd
acàrcigant but that bloom in Nosu
chen''e contu
and tui, Andera
than dead ...
Cagliari
place where old
unfolds
hours
my thread
Ask me today if I
also born in these endless beaches
I'm going to ask for alms
and to whom.
Who? The stranger. Cagliari
eagle
proud that you always look in the face of the mistral
tell me what
feeling of defeat as bitter bread
live
between the high walls that we raise ourselves
around us? What sins
corrode us to consume
continuing to throw
heart, land and other wealth
fire
greed of others?
The cold flame of the mistral
I will take a day like blade
of concern, pointed to free
-
mother of all sweetness,
mother of all hope -
pain
steps that do not arrive at anything but trample us
worthless as dust and dead as you
road ..
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