Fellini recorded his dreams
in sketch books and diaries.
Dreams in which he saw his obituary on the page
and made love to glamorous Anita Ekberg.
On those warm nights of Roman heat
or when cool sea-breezes blew from the Adriatic
his sleep was haunted: he saw himself with Passolini
walking into the unlit alley
or dancing with Fred and Ginger
through the cinemas of Rimini.
Fellini dreamed of more Hiroshimas
and falling among thieves.
His dreams appeared as allegories
in the shooting script for Amarcord:
the scene with the ship strung with lanterns,
a floating carnival to light up the fascist years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I see real talent between your lines. A well articulated piece of poetry elegantly brought forth in good diction with conviction. Thanks for sharing Gerard.