Sometimes your voice calls me back,
and I do not know which skies, which waters
awaken in me:
a net of sun streaks incisions
on your walls, where in the twilight,
a swinging of lamps,
from old shops
full of mirrors and sadness.
and I do not know which skies, which waters
awaken in me:
a net of sun streaks incisions
on your walls, where in the twilight,
a swinging of lamps,
from old shops
full of mirrors and sadness.
Another time: a loom beat in the court
and you could hear at night a cry
of pups and children.
Alley: a cross of houses
calling one another softly,
and they do not know it is terrifying
to be alone in the dark.
and you could hear at night a cry
of pups and children.
Alley: a cross of houses
calling one another softly,
and they do not know it is terrifying
to be alone in the dark.
(Translation by Anny Ballardini)
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