My Sweet Dear,
on that night while you were taking me to Church – to replace the music of your voice with the sound of instruments I was already thinking of the day after our tomorrow where the time would have replaced your bright laughter with silence, and memories, and a poem by an Italian poet was brought by that slow moving ripple to my mind.
Ho sceso, dandoti il braccio, almeno un milione di scale, by Eugenio Montale.
His wound was an Ocean deeper, the time scales different – he had had decades of presence and had to deal with an eternity of absence.
But only then I could begin to appreciate the pain behind these words, to understand the true meaning of how it feels for the creature that lovers create by merging together, a tetrapod with an arch shaped head (holding the heaviness of emptiness), to lose that added pair of legs.
I have translated it for you.
Letters to myself: a diary 