by Massimo Soranzio

Time was always running fast
In my teens, my metronome
Mostly set on presto, or
Prestissimo, or sometimes
Allegro, if I ever
Felt I needed to relax.

The rhythm of my first youth
Was rather sostenuto,
Yet switching to comodo
Or simply moderato,
When action had to leave room
For dialogue and reason.

When my second youth started,
It was on maestoso,
Alla marcia, con brio,
Till one day, rallentando,
My movement went from largo
To adagio—and I stopped

To wonder at this precious
Object, my old metronome:
Old German technology
Bearing old Italian words
Describing the highs and lows
Of a lifetime’s melody.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: My old metronome, at home.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I’ve had my old metronome since my early teens; I have always loved and treasured it. Though it still does its job perfectly well, it can be considered obsolete technology: today there are several metronome apps one can download for his mobile phone . . . Yet I will be proud to pass it on to my daughter, who has only started studying music this year.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Massimo Soranzio writes on the northern Adriatic coast of Italy, about 20 miles from Trieste. He teaches English as a foreign language and English literature in a high school, and has been a journalist, a translator, and a freelance lecturer on Modernist literature and literary translation. He took part in the Found Poetry Review’s National Poetry Month challenges Oulipost (2014) and PoMoSco (2015), and in a virtual tour around the world with an international group of poets on