In shallow waters I lay:
Cold streams
Like serpentine waves
Sliver silver foam
On a green surface;
Mirth is to know
None shall disturb you,
None but the virtue
Of virility.
From distant shores came to me a lad
With a visage so selfedly glad
That he nearly rejoiced at his presence;
(Much like how I did at his presence,
I, too, a simple laddie at the lake)
With a smirking charm he tries my heart to take:
‘Salve, marinaio,
Why don’t you cry-oh save me!
To the nearest nearby?
Do I provoke no fear or hatred
Nel tuo cuore?
Don’t you seek amore,
To love or to be loved
More than an animal unferal?
More than a widow whose sterile
Digits can no longer touch?’
Ignorant of the language he co-optedly spoke,
I pondered the aim of this bloke.
His was a glare too manly and wicked:
A Trojan horse whose teeth were thick and
Evidently ravished for flesh.
‘Niente non dici?’
He asks with peachy cheeks,
And innocent demeanour,
And teasing stare.
‘Why would I fear or hate you,
oh fellow laddie at the lake?’
‘Very little is us fellow,
Marinaio. You and I-obey
Different voices, for the ones we hear
Are different.
I am no mere ragazzino al lago,
Rather, as you call it,
No mere laddie at the lake.
I love to men make.’
‘But I need no love to me made.’
‘Ma finora non sei uomo, ragazzino.
Non faccio l’amore, faccio l’uomo.
E loro sempre fanno l’odio....’
His good mood left him abruptly.
‘Pretty as you are, ragazzino al lago,
Don’t make your heart rot
With shame. Chissà there is us
More fellow than I thought.’
Away swam the merman of the lake.
I oddly started longing for his gestures,
Sea-blue eyes, coarsely bearded,
Inviting grin, youthful spear head,
And unstudied foreignness.
Cold streams brought foam once more,
And the wind blew pollen to my wake.
My naked body shivered in the lake,
And I knew how little I knew…