Yours was the first boarding house I lived in
when I left home, a seventeen-year-old student
alongside three other, older student boarders.
I remember well the old-style, rambling villa,
high ceilings and stylish bay windows;
and in the dining room, anoak table,
where we gathered for dinner, not too late,
and struck upsome table talk, small talk,
before watching black-and-white television
in the lounge that had comfortable armchairs.
The students were armchair critics of the programs.
The house was close enough to walk to university,
which was what I liked most about its location.
One student had been travelling around Asia:
Hesaid to me in passing, 'You'll go places'.
Another student had come from a nine-to-five,
but now he was studying to be a scientist.
Both these likable men left, mid-year.
Other boarders arrived to take their place:
a banker who became my friend
and walked the extra mile with me to church.
We were all treated as equals in your house.
None of us ever felt too cold
in the grey winter of that turbulent year.
One Saturday in spring you woke me and said:
'President Kennedy has been shot in Dallas'.
-23 May,2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice write, Michael.. and it called back to my memory a period I spent in Siena, alone, when my family moved close to Firenze. I was a 15 y.o. high school student that time, so I experienced a boarding house for seven months. It was in a medioeval palace, c.50 meters from Piazza del Campo. A beautiful location, but I was the only lodger there and it was boring.. :)
You obviously know what a boarding house can be like too. Thanks.