Run to the pound,
boy, run It's there
you'll be
when you've found it.
I'm not clove-hooved It's okay
to get close to me--you say Siete Vulcano
I say no, no I'm not--volcanoes
have strength. Avete resistenza! you say
No, I don't have strength, I say
and it goes on like this for a while.
Sono un poet! I call out
to no one. It's fashionable to drop
foreign words,
Hemingway-style,
ed intendo farlo!
"ed intendo farlo" means something to the effect of "and I intend to!" I really wrote this as a random interlude to any seriousness after being annoyed by all the foreign language I was reading in poetry. So I basically chose some random ideas and translated them into Italian and added them to this poem.
For some reason, I think the first stanza would be better as the last. Sort of like the poem's fading out. Maybe that's just the italics getting to me.
I'm not clove-hooved It's okay
to get close to me--you say Siete Vulcano
I say no, no I'm not--volcanoes
have strength. Avete resistenza! you say
No, I don't have strength, I say
and it goes on like this for a while.
I'd hate to sound stupid, but I really can't understand the..er...language in this poem. I bet it means something. Really. But it's vague with all the forgien-ness.
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