Lidia Chiarelli, Sue Zhu

Lidia Chiarelli: Judge at 左龙右虎诗歌评选 (Left Dragon Right Tiger Poetry Selection) – China 2021

Words of Appreciation from Sue Zhu (淑文), New Zealand Chinese poet, painter, entrepreneur and organizer of international cultural exchanges.

非常感谢 lidia的高效工作。她的真诚和爱是春风让诗歌的花朵充分而美好地绽放,她的专业,严谨和认真的态度让本次赛事更加趋于完美。在此谨代表胡先生和其他老师们再一次感谢她。期待未来我们可以有更多的合作

Thank you very much for your efficient work. Your sincerity and love are the spring breeze that makes the flowers of poetry bloom fully and beautifully,  your professionalism, thoroughness, and seriousness make this event more perfect. On behalf of Mr. Hu and other teachers, I would like to say thank you so much once more. We look forward to doing more cooperative work together in the future. 

Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli, Xosiyat Rustamova

Lidia Chiarelli interviewed by Xosiyat Rustamova in the newspaper “Kitob Dunyosi” (Book World)- Uzbekistan

INTERVIEW TO LIDIA CHIARELLI, Torino – Italy
1. What do you regard as your most important contribution to world literature?

In 2007 I founded the art-literary Movement IMMAGINE & POESIA (Image & Poetry) with Aeronwy Thomas, Dylan Thomas’ daughter. In the 10 points of the Manifesto we stated that a new, enhanced form of art could be created by the union of Art and Poetry.

Within a few years Immagine & Poesia rapidly spread via the web where collaborations between artists and poets are published, as well as through international exhibitions. Today the Movement includes hundreds of Poets and Artists from all over the world.

2. What would humanity be without the humanities?

In 1949 George Orwell showed us what happens in a world without the humanities. In his book Nineteen Eighty-four he spoke of a world where technology dominated and the power was in the hands of those who controlled it.

Once all creativity was extinguished, the human being became a larva, guarded at sight by telescreens, cameras, and hidden microphones, and completely succumbing to totalitarian rules.

Today I fully agree with the opinion of futurist  Gerd Leonhard who has analyzed  the impact of technologies on our world in his book  Technology vs. Humanity. Leonhardfears that our world is rapidly going to resemble Orwell’s science fiction. Moreover he has also invited the technologies leaders to embrace digital ethics.

3. How can people find the poetry in their lives?

We live in a wounded world, every day newspapers and television show  violence, wars, injustice…

The year 2020 has hit even more all the countries of the world with the rapid and relentless Covid 19 pandemic.

I believe that Poetry, both for those who write it and for those who read it, can be an antidote to the depression that grips many people today.

Poetry can illuminate life with a different perspective and make us see the light at the end of the tunnel.

4. How can poetry compete with social media?

Social media can enhance poetry and create new means of expression.

Instagram Poetry has recently risen as a new literary genre.

American writer Jamal Cadoura has been posting poetry on Instagram since 2015 and nowadays many others follow his path becoming Instapoets.

These types of poems are short, with a simple language and they are more visual than traditional poems.

Similarly, dozens of poetry groups have sprung up on socials such as Facebook and Twitter:

here Poets and their audiences can meet and  confront with the existential questions of our uncertain times.

Daniela Feltrinelli, Lidia Chiarelli

“Accendo candele” poem by Daniela Feltrinelli. English Translation and Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli

ACCENDO CANDELE

Accendo candele 

per veder danzare la notte,

intreccio filigrane di parole

e attendo …

Accendo candele

e aspetto la notte:

lunga è la sera 

e non vedo la luna…

Accendo candele 

e aspetto parole:

scorre l’inchiostro 

senza macchie e senza colore.

Accendo candele

e spengo le luci,

silenzi di casa

e rumori dell’anima…

Accendo candele

e spargo profumi,

aspetto un sonno

che non verrà…

Accendo candele

e accendo pensieri

che vengono a te.

DANIELA FELTRINELLI

I LIGHT CANDLES

I light candles

to see the night dancing

I intertwine filigrees of words

and I wait…

I light candles

and I wait for the night:

long is the evening

and I do not see the moon…

I light candles

and wait for words:

the ink flows

without stains and without color.

I light candles

and turn off the lights,

home silences

and noises of the soul…

I light candles

and spread perfumes,

I look for a sleep

that will not come…

I light candles

and I turn on the thoughts that come to you.

Translation by Lidia Chiarelli

_______________________________

Daniela Feltrinelli was born in La Spezia, in the magnificent Gulf of Poets.

Since her youth she has used the written words as means of introspection and personal expression, publishing poems in anthologies of her area.

In 2018 she wrote the collection of poems Isole vicine, almost entirely dedicated to the small islands of Palmaria and Tino and to the sea, a continuous source of great inspiration for her.

The book, published by Agorà&co, has received many awards and mentions in national and international literary competitions.

In 2020, in full lockdown, she published her second book of poetry, L’incanto dell’onda (Helicon editions).The book is divided into five sections: Nature, People, Seasons, Travel, Humanitarian Emergencies. Some of the poems have already been awarded in different competitions and the book is among the finalists in the International Prize City of Sarzana.

The author believes that poetry is the safest place to store feelings and emotions.

Ali Al-Hazmi, Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli

“Lacrime sulle sue labbra bruciate dal sale” poem by Ali Al-Hazmi, Saudi Arabia. Italian translation and Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Lacrime sulle sue labbra bruciate dal sale

Vicino alla costa, costruivamo case di sabbia. Quando partì per la pesca, per l’ultima volta…

Siamo corsi a riportare le corde della rete alla sua piccola canoa.

Con le manine

Abbiamo salutato incessantemente le ultime onde che strappavano via la barca,

Lontano dai tempi della nostra infanzia.

Dietro le sbarre della finestra, le nostre testoline serrate; con gli occhi fissi sulla strada costiera;

Le ali della mamma spiegate sulle nostre piccole spalle

Mentre il suo corpo si insinuava tra i nostri;

Immensamente preoccupata per le nostre anime innocenti in erba.

Avevo paura che i suoi lunghi capelli potessero cedere al vento, se avesse camminato oltre la ringhiera di metallo;

L’ho tirata indietro verso il calore della stanza di legno; poi ho guardato la riva del mare impressa nei suoi occhi,

Allora vidi il mare avanzare ben oltre le case di sabbia.

“Ritornerà di sicuro” disse

Prima che le sue lacrime si posassero sulle mie labbra, le mie labbra bruciate dal sale.

Vent’anni non sono serviti a demolire le case di sabbia

Ai nostri occhi.

Il volto rinsecchito di mio padre, adagiato sulle onde, è diventato una finestra che guarda agli anni d’argento della nostra epoca; un’epoca abbandonata in trappole fangose.

Eppure, la mia amata madre nasconde i suoi rimpianti dietro la sua ombra. Ancora, al mattino,

Fa il pane fresco con i suoi sogni;

E a mezzanotte,

Riscalda ciò che resta dei suoi desideri sul fornello della sua anima. Ancora, ci fidiamo di lei e mangiamo il pane della sua menzogna,

Solo per continuare a vivere.

_______________________________________

Tears Rolling down Her Salted Burning Lips

Near the coast, we used to build sand homes. When he left for fishing, for the last time… We raced to return the trimmings of his net To his little canoe.

With little hands

We waved unceasingly to the last waves That snatched his boat away,

Away from the times of our childhood.

Behind the window bars, our little heads squeezed; With eyes fixed on the coast road;

Mother’s wings spread over our little shoulders

As she injected her body among ours;

Immensely worried about our budding innocent souls.

I was scared that her long hair may submit to the winds, If she forward on the metal rail ;

I drew her back towards the warmness of the timber room; Then I stared at the seashores dwelling in her eyes,

And saw the sea travelling far beyond the sand homes.

leant

 “Sure, he will return,” she said,

Before her tear floored upon my lips— mysalted burning lips.

Twenty years did not avail to demolish the sand homes

In our eyes.

The dried out face of my father, laid upon the waves Became a window thatlooks at the silver years of our age; An age abandoned in muddy traps.

Still, my beloved mother conceals her regrets behind her shadow. Still, on the mornings,

She makes fresh bread with her dreams;

And at midnights,

She reheats what remains of her wishes on the stove of her soul. Still, we trust her and eat the bread of her lie,

Just to live on

___________________

Ali Al-Hazmi (Biography)

* Born in Damadd, Saudi Arabia, in 1970.

* Obtained a degree in Arabic language and Literature at Umm Al-Qura University – Faculty of Arabic Language,1992.

* As early as the year 1985, the poet started publishing poems in a variety of local and Arabic cultural Periodicals such as The Seventh Day (Paris), Creativity (Cairo),

Nazoa (Amman) and The New Text.

The poet participated in a number of recital sessions of poetry inside and

outside of Saudi Arabia:

 International Poetry Festival, Costa Rica 2013.

 International Poetry Festival, Voix Vives in Toledo, Spain 2014.  International Poetry Festival, Punta del Este, Uruguay 2015.  Madrid Voice life Poetry Festival, Spain 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Havana, Cuba 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Medellín, Colombia 2016.

 Istanbul Poetry Festival, Turkey, 2016.

 International Poetry Festival, Roma 2017.

 International Academy Orient – Occident, Romania 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Madrid, Spain 2017.

 International Poetry Festival, Malaga, Spain 2018.

 International Poetry Festival February, Madrid. Spain 2018. 82

 Publications:

 A Gate for the Body, Dar Almadina- Jeddah- 1993.

 Loss, Sharqiyat- Sharqueyat Pub. House, Cairo 2000.

 Deer Drink Its Own Image, Arab Cultural Center, Beirut 2004.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Riad-Al Rayes – Beirut 2009.

 Now in the Past, Arab Cultural Center-Beirut, 2018.

 Selected Poems (Audio CD Anthology) – Hail Literary Club, 2010.

Books Translated to Different Foreign Languages:

Trees of Absence, Translated into French-Lil-Dision – France 2016.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into Spanish by University of Costa Rica

Editorial 2013, House of Poetry Foundation.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated into French- Larmatin – Paris 2016.

A Fragmented Life, Translated into Turkish – Art Shop Pub. House, Istanbul -Turkey 2017.

A definite Road in the Mist, Translated into English and Romanian language – Academy Orient – Occident – Romania 2017.

Take Me to My Body, Seleted Poems Translated into Serbian Language, Alma Publishing House, Belgrade, Serbia 2018.

A Road into the Wall, Translated into Macedonian Language, AkademskiPečat Publishing House, Macedonia, 2019.

 Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to Spanish, University of Costa Rica in Collaboration with The House of Poetry in Costa Rica, 2013.

Comfortable on the Edge, Translated to French, La Martin Publishing House, 2016. *Al Hazmi participated in more than 20 Anthologies in different parts of the world:

Colombia, Spain, Dominican, Germany, China, Turkey, Romania, Cuba and Serbia.

*The poet has recently signed a contract with Google to have the previlege of publishing some oh his poem son Google Assistance Site.

Prizes:

* Medal of Poetry, Urugway, 2015.

* The World Grand Prize for Poetry, The International Academy Orient – Occident in Romania 2017.

* His Poem “A Road into the Wall” won Verbumlandia Prize in Italy, 2017.

* The Prize of the Best International Poet in 2018, The International Center for Translation and Poetry Research, China.

Digital Collage, Immagine & Poesia, Lidia Chiarelli, Sue Zhu

“The Remembrance of Snow” poem by Sue Zhu, New Zealand. Italian translation and Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

The remembrance of snow

by Sue Zhu (New Zealand)

A few snowflakes moved ahead towards JiangCheng*

Gently touched down on the shore, Until end of the year

They were kidnaped by the cruel cold wind

Recruited frantically the soldiers

And prepared horses to raid the city.

Everything was targeted

And no one was to escape

Now each object is covered with pale-whiteness

All faces, even doors and windows are masked

The lockdowns have locked the towns

Horror prevailed over plains and plateaus

From the Yangtze to the farthest end of the globe

Across the four oceans

From one season to another, there is a dance of death.

At the daytime snow seem soft and sporadic

But at night it is as hard as an iron block

I hear squeaking sounds of the branches and eaves being crushed

I hear some noises of avalanches at the distance.

Are they still those elegant elves?

Sobering at midnight, counting the Sheep, stars and days in silence

Peaceful holy moonlight

Shines on the white sheets and walls

with unlimited mercy and grace

People in sleepless plight struggle to pray

Long for the sooner

“The rooster crow louder at dawn… “**

(JiangCheng*: A nick name for Wuhan of China.

** “The rooster crow louder at dawn… “This sentence was quoted from poem titled “To the Wine” by Lihe who was a poet of Tang Dynasty of China, He describes that when dawn comes, the night ends, all the truth will come out. From the beginning of Coronavirus in Wuhan, it spread to all over the world, People are eager to know the truth where it came from to avoid it happening again in the future.)

IL MELETO DI GUIDO GOZZANO HONORABLE MENTION 2020

_______________

Il ricordo della neve

di Sue Zhu (Nuova Zelanda)

Alcuni fiocchi di neve si sono spostati verso JiangCheng*

Atterrano delicatamente sulla riva, fino alla fine dell’anno

Sono stati rapiti dal crudele vento freddo

I soldati reclutati freneticamente

E preparati i cavalli per razziare la città.

Tutto è stato preso di mira

E nessuno doveva scappare

Ora ogni oggetto è coperto di bianco pallido

Tutte le facce, anche le porte e le finestre sono mascherate

Le serrate hanno bloccato le città

L’orrore ha prevalso sulle pianure e sugli altipiani

Dallo Yangtze all’estremità più lontana del globo

Attraverso i quattro oceani

Da una stagione all’altra, c’è una danza di morte.

Di giorno la neve sembra morbida e sporadica

Ma di notte è dura come un blocco di ferro

Sento scricchiolii di rami e grondaie che vengono schiacciati

Sento dei rumori di valanghe in lontananza.

Sono ancora quegli elfi eleganti ?

Riflettendo  a mezzanotte, contando le pecore, le stelle e i giorni in silenzio

La luce della luna santa e pacifica

Brilla sui fogli bianchi e sulle pareti

con misericordia e grazia infinite

Le persone in preda all’ insonnia lottano per pregare

Desiderando appena possibile di sentire

“Il gallo canta più forte all’alba…”

(JiangCheng*: Un soprannome per Wuhan della Cina.

Bio: Sue Zhu, New Zealand Chinese poet, painter, entrepreneur. She is a member of the poetry institute of China, director of NZ Poem Art Association, honorary director of the US-China Cultural Association, advisor of some Chinese poetry clubs, a multi award winner in Chinese national poetry competitions.

Immagine & Poesia, Khế Iêm, Lidia Chiarelli

“Black Cat” poem by Khe Iem, Vietnam. Digital Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Khe Iem

THE BLACK CAT

The black cat with my soul and a piece of

my rib, wakes up every morning not

washing its face, every morning not

brushing its teeth; the black cat with clay-like

eyes, opening and closing, or open-

ing and never closing, as it climbs up

and down the stairs, dragging with it my soul

and a piece of my rib, forgetting that

i had lived much darker days, since when and

why it was i had buried them in my

pocket full of notes gathered from

many different tales, strung together

to make up this story about the black

cat with my soul and a piece of my rib;

of course, that is the black cat with clay-like

eyes, not any other kind of eyes; even

as the black cat climbs up and down the stairs.

Translated into English by J. Do Vinh

_________________

Note

“The Black Cat” is one of three very fine poems in the December 2007 edition of Poetry.about Forum (http://poetry.about.com).

THE CATS WILL KNOW _

Immagine & Poesia, Katherine L. Gordon, Lidia Chiarelli

“Wordless With Roses” poem by Katherine Gordon, “Cascade of Roses” fine art photo by Lidia Chiarelli

cascade of roses (3)

Wordless With Roses

There is a rose in many a poem

though no words can capture

the startlement of such a beauty

lavished on some olden wall as though

fairy-chosen to hold all who can see

to a ransom of dreams.   We cannot say

how the heart stops, tears appear,

passions pulse, but for a moment all meaning

is possible.

True love, true harmony, true surrender,

all wordless.

Katherine L. Gordon.

 

Gordon L. Katherine (Canada)
Katherine L. Gordon is a poet, publisher, judge, reviewer and literary critic, promoting poetry internationally. Her work
has been published internationally in several languages, including Chinese and Hindi. Her latest book is Caution: Deep
Water, HMS Press.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katherine_L._Gordon