Ana (English)

I wait to wake you up
before I make your breakfast.
Count down of few seconds
and two suicide stars…
Gravitational waves
surfing waves
space-time now.
The astrophysical equations
do not lie.
While the stars remain
hidden by English clouds
and you menina+ by my sheets .
I move them and I congratulate
my self for having your legs and
your white milky way breasts.
Just a word away from my hands.
A desire away from my hands.
Play with your thighs and
dance with your nipples
I ordered them.
You tours with your eyes closed
to kiss me in a Portuguese
of village between mountains.
And the supernovae* with
the Cosmos without
Carl Sagan and future.
Abide the time it will take us
to love each other.
Before sharing our coffee.

+ Girl in Portuguese
* Some dying stars create a supernova.

AnaSofia-English

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Text & picture© Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com 
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Nastas’ia your train from Vienna to Budapest in Rome (English)

Your present and future lovers should
fear the selfishness of my initials.
Rome should be only ours.
Romans should build triumphal arches
with the perfection of your breasts.
Museums with your noon shadows
and your sandals.
Tapestries and Orthodox icons with your photos^*.
Sixteen Chapels and one Sistine
with our first kiss.
Vatican libraries with the book
you were reading+ when I met you.
Coliseums with our sheets.
Circus Maximus with your desires.
Walls and defenses to the blue Monday
of our return.
Catacombs to our solitudes.
Rome should offer the Trevi Fountain
to your crotch.
Bridges to the beauty spots on your back.
Basilicas to the fresco of your body.
The Pantheon^ to your thighs.
Roman Legions to the pleasure of your hands.
Choirs to your joyful mysteries.
The Bernini’s Baldachin to your bed.
Aqueducts to this night together.
Let the gods convert us into pagans.
Let all the roads lead me to you.
Thousand and one* joined Italy.
Thousand and one marched on Rome.
Thousand and one desired you.
And it is one and not thousand with
who you share this room today.
Of closed curtains,
walls happy for us
and lights for my memories.

^* You are from Moscow
+ Hermann Hesse
^ Of all the gods
* Spedizione dei Mille, Garibaldi men who unified Italy (half of the nineteenth century).

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Texto & foto © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com
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Aurora, Porto (English)

I confess myself yesterday as
I felt slept I missed you.
You are already climbing stairs
in Montmartre^ while I look for
you in this our first pub.
Without leaps of faith or
Verona^^ tragedies.
We learned to be together
we learned to say goodbye.
The policy of our reunion
by mutual agreement.
We bought it with damages
to third parties*  and return tickets.

^ It’s not a cliché
^^ We’re not Romeo & Juliet
* I guess you are not alone.

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Text & picture © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com
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Salut^ (English)

I got bored of your charity.
I got tired of looking for you
in taxis driven by strangers.
Your groin waters
lost their Jacques Cousteau.
Your breasts their
biggest devotee.
Your croissant its coffee.
Your telephone my messages
of three glasses*.
Your pub my rounds .
Your red underground+
my desires.
Your loneliness the one
that caressed you.

^ Bye bye in French Aurora.
*Three doubles and more!
+ See any map of London

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Text & picture © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com
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Mum (English)

You taught me
how to run
with the first book,
you gave me+.
I always ran.
In elementary school
to do my homework
and carry the flag^.
In high school
with the T-square
and molten metal.
In the uni with wings and
hopes of aluminium rivets.
In my PhD
in London with
PC simulations
and a foreign language.
In my career
betting everything
on the red.
Finally, when I have the
time to give you.
Tickets in my wallet
to your beloved Europe.
Wrinkles in my smile and
ears without  answers.
Then your memories
run away from you.
You, mother,
run from them.
And my tears
from your abandonment.

+The Little Prince,  Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
^The Argentinian flag.

Many thanks Julian Mindel for the corrections and suggestions.

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Texto & foto © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com 
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Confession (English)

I apologize for
making you laugh
and steal a kiss
from you.
For my endless searches
of naked disillusions
and breakfast
always for one.
For scandalize you
with my past
after my first glass.
For forcing you to vanish
when you see our future
without you.
For not giving you
my coffee time.
I apologize for
not allow you to hurt me.
For not allow us
to hurt each other.
I ask myself forgiveness
for your Sunday cuddle
and your Monday smile
that I do not have.

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Texto & foto © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com 
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Simona-Piazza (English)

It is not impossible to conceive
from my autumn’s desk.
The warmth of your books.
Your cloudless sky.
Your present of
theatres and NGOs.
Your future in the south.
Your Piazza dei Cavalieri+.
Your prosecco and prosciutto.
Your family breakfast.
The smile in your photos.
Your paese* without walls.
Your farewell in the airport.
Your Sicilian music .
Your coffees in the strada.
Your city without subway.
Your honesty without mini skirts.
Your feet without high heels.
Your care without make-up.
My exile^ beside you.

+Knights’ square Pisa, Italy
*Town in Italian
^ From London

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Cakes and orange juice (To you mom)

The habit that
is not routine+
begins in the taxi.
Granny and you, mum
smile to each other
thinking about the cake
you are going to eat.
Sometimes Alzheimer’s
carries you to that
mom full of fears
and frustrations.
When I was young
and everyone called
you Doctor.
Defeated by the house we lost.
By my brother the rebel,
always in pain.
By your Santa Rosa* without us.
But sometimes
Alzheimer’s forgets you.
And you eat cake,
and granny looks at you
and everything
is so yummy.
And then I forget
that you forget.
And we all remember
to love each other.

+Twice a year.
*La Pampa, Argentina

Thank you for the corrections Julian Mindel

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Texto & foto © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com
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Giulia Maria-Relativity (English)

If your breasts do not
know how to read.
If your legs do not
know about paintings.
If your hands do not
notice what I tell you.
If your heart is not getting
exited with what I insinuate.
If I already filled few times
my glass with rum.
If you kiss him.
If I am so sad that I would steal
this bottle and half of the bar.
Then my words are obliterated
by my pain.
So all I care bella*
is a call to your bed.

*In Italian means : pretty

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Texto & foto ©
Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com
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Per la lettura in Italiano -> https://ristretto230.com/2015/10/14/relativita-italiano-italian/

Alone (English)

Do not trust my points
or my commas.
The flowers in the bouquet.
The national anthem you were taught.
Your company values+.
The smiles in the subway.
The power of your v-neck*.
Your legs after
the first bottle.
Your manager title.
The books you read.
Today’s news paper.
The ring on your left hand.
Because we are alone.
And together with your past^
and what’s left in your glass
I am the best excuse for a kiss.

+Core values
*On your black dress
^Your life

Alone
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Text & picture © Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com 
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