morte
eravamo vicini
alla finestra
e si guardava il sole
verso il meriggio
poi ad un tratto
dal cielo
venne la morte
e nel terrazzo
un cavallo rosso di legno
rimase dondolando
ricordi di bimbi
death
around noon
we were
by the window
looking at the sun
when death
suddenly
came from the sky
& in the terrace
a red wooden horse
kept rocking
remembrance of children
from the first 16 poems, 1946, Tambellini
…it was the 4th of july 1946
the next morning
next to my mother
from above the anchored “Liberty Ship”
I saw my father waiting by the pier below
is that my father I said
I feel I was so old & he so young
had time aged
my 16 years so much
in the train ride to Syracuse NY
my native city
my father speaks to my mother
of separation
the train window is
rapidly flashing the new landscape
dislocated frames
superimposed over fragments
from my wounded land across the ocean
fading to black
then winter came with its tragic events
snow / snow / more snow & ice / storms
more ice & snow
how does one communicate with winter darkness?
as the mother who gave me life in this city
fearfully re-entered the dangerously lived life
of world war II paranoia…
Excerpt from poem, January 6, 2005, Aldo Tambellini
mother
it is the night
they come
with the white van
three strangers
dressed in white
&
I as a decoy
have tricked you
into descending the stairs
in the january snow
falling
with the whitest of white
the white van
with the backdoor opened
parked by
that ancient poplar tree
on james street
in syracuse ny
the three men in white
acting
as a matter of fact
used to a routine
that must be performed
best in a swift way
you mother
suddenly aware of
what is about to happen
hold on to my arm
pleading
don’t
let them take me away
Excerpt from poem, October 19, 1990, Aldo Tambellini
Syracuse Museum of Fine Arts on James Street, ca. 1930s,
Everson Museum Art Archive
The Funeral, 1948
Tambellini in front of portion of restaurant mural, ca. 1950
The boathouse at Camp Pinebrook
Photo by Aldo Tambellini, ca. 1953
June 1955
March 1956
-Aldo Tambellini