Under my blouse. a poem by Irma Kurti

Under my blouse

The child I’m holding in my arms
is not mine and will never be.
Her head leans against my chest;
her stare is fixed; she’s falling asleep.

Her hand touches my hair;
her little fingers mingle with mine.
Minutes ago, we laughed together;
under the rhythm of rain, we danced.

In an instant she moves–searching
for something under my blouse. 
I’m not her mother and I’ll never be,
I swallow my tears; I don’t want to cry.

I can’t give her what she’s looking for.
I have just given her all my love.
We play. I often become her friend. 
I think of her, but she’s not my child.
 
Little by little she’s closing her eyes–
finding herself in sweet white dreams,
the tip of her fingers under my blouse.
A broken song is resting on my lips.


(This poetry is part of the collection “Love, you don’t know” Ukiyoto Publishing, 2022)

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Irma Kurti is an Italo-Albanian poetess, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator. She has been writing since she was a child. Kurti has won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. In 2020, she received the title of Honorary President of WikiPoesia, the Encyclopedia of Poetry. Irma Kurti has published 25 books in Albanian, 17 in Italian and 7 in English. She has written about 150 lyrics for adults and children. She is also the translator of 11 books of different authors and of all her books in Italian and English.  She lives in Bergamo, Italy.

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