Immigration Poetry

In the poem “Hopefully flying home”, originally written in Italian, my father  focuses on the concepts of separation and loss perceived by an immigrant.

He expresses the feelings of an immigrant son returning to his dying father.

His  “looking up” and “ looking down” on the plane journey  symbolize death and life and the poet’s  uncertainty of finding his father still alive. 

The concept of death is dealt with serenity and strength.    

Obviously the translation has no poetic value, but I’d like to share the English version of the  poem with you so it can reach as many people as possible. I hold family bonds the most precious treasures to cherish.                                                          

                                         

                                           It was suddenly dark and

                                           the rain was pelting down.

                                           Waiting for more than an hour, 

                                           sitting in a jet plane,

                                           I saw only blinding lightning through the window.
                                           When a sudden  break in the clouds peeped out,

                                           the jet plane took off.

                                           For eight long hours I remained

                                           between heaven and earth 

                                           at  boundless height,

                                           and, when I was torn apart by doubt,

                                           I wished the jet plane flew higher and higher

                                           to reach up to my dear father's soul.

                                           But an ineffable eagerness

                                           drove me to hope

                                           that  at my arrival

                                           his heart would still beat.

                                           Looking up at the sky

                                           I was blinded

                                           by falling unlit stars.

                                           Secular seemed to me that night

                                           and  as it ended

                                           the stars vanished,

                                           whilst the grey sky appeared

                                           and the faraway dawn seemed so feeble.

                                           The emerging sun

                                           inspired me with strength and courage

                                           and heralded the landing.

                                           Looking down I saw my ancestral land.

                                           In the same moment as I arrived home

                                           my beloved father exhaled the last breath.

                                           Cold tears poured down his unaffected face

                                           and his lips still warm I kissed.

                                           I was tempted to massage his chest

                                           to stimulate his heart,

                                                      but I kept from doing it

                                           for he had found serenity.

                                                                                     Dante Manganelli