Citronerne i Ascea / The Lemons of Ascea

on mobile? turn phone sideways!

Citronerne i Ascea er modne som
Mit modne køds længsel efter varsomhedens ægthed
I en mands blik de er i en lille have op af snirklede slidte
Og ujævne trin i stejle stræder og bladene er måske
Lidt begyndende tørre men de er som et saftigt smil
Jeg ville klatre af forbudte trin for at plukke med
Begærets rytme og den syrlige saft tager jeg med
Den skal man ikke undervurderer i dag smager jeg
Den selv helst i en Martini for i den gule frugts omrids
Kan man næsten åbne Italiens hedes glød i ordet Bellisimo
Der er en indre sansehvisken der ligger sig som åbne
Blå sommerlængsels erindring hvor saften flyder ned
Af din nøgne huds hvisken i hjertets citrontræers modning
Gemt i eftersmagen fra mit sinds Martini med bismagen Citrus
Men kom til Ascea helst slut August hvis du ønsker at plukke 
Deres solgule løfter men jeg lover intet blot husk gå ej kun
Ned langs Marinen og ved Rådhuset men ad små snirklede 
Veje det er der man høster citronerne bedst i Ascea

The lemons in Ascea are as ripe as
My seasoned flesh’s longing for honest attention
In a man's gaze they are in a small orchard twisting up worn
And uneven steps in steep alleys and the leaves are maybe
Just beginning to dry out but they are like a juicy smile
I will climb these forbidden steps and pluck them with 
A rhythmic desire for all their bitter juice 
This should not be underestimated today I will taste
Them preferably in a Martini because in the outline of the yellow fruit
You can almost feel the heat of Italy in the word Bellissimo
There is an inner sensory whisper that rests like some clear
Memory of yearned-for blue summers where the juice flows down
On the whisper of your naked skin in the heart’s ripening lemon trees
Hidden in the aftertaste from my mind's Martini with the aftertaste of citrus
But come to Ascea preferably at the end of August if you want to pluck
Their sunny yellow promises but I promise nothing just remember don't only go
Down along the Marina and past the Town Hall but along small winding roads
This is where you can best harvest the lemons of Ascea

Nete Krøll, Translated by Peter Campbell Bensted

Nete Krøll is a Danish writer. Her works include “Linjeform,” “Anna Anchers Glans,” and “The Coat.” She studied at the Danish Institute in Athens and the Valparaiso foundation in Spain. This was the start of a greater journey, where her true diva glow awoke. This is the first poem in her upcoming collection of poems “The Hearts Travel Notes.”

Peter Campbell Bensted invites you to read more about his work HERE & HERE.

Previous
Previous

Readers

Next
Next

What I’m Smiling About