It rains with shivers in my zealot vow
To whom I was, to elder that I’ll be;
No lucid spring will blossom in the knee,
After the chaos of the falling crow.
No half or faked answers and no plea
To broken fortune in the mirror, now,
When I’m the reckless tyrant in the slough
Of recollection and despair glee.
No second thoughts; under the step will grow
A chasm, a heated spear or a sea
he’s feeding on my sadness
take a deep breath he says
// and I don’t like names//
take a deep breath he says
bianca
before we dive into this
new skin
covering our wings
// but I promised this would not be a poem
about angels
wings
sky and not even clouds//
we’ll use straws and make bubbles
until we’ll be ready for surface
find our way
eyes
say hello // hello// as the air crushes
Quel maledetto giorno
rosso di sangue innocente,
che travestì la Luna,
allontanò il Sole
e coprì il cielo con le sue ombre,
quella rabbia cieca
che fulminò il tranquillo silenzio
in una pioggia devastante di fuoco ardente
seminando con crudeltà il dolore pesante
inaspettata assurdità e lutto imperdonabile...
E' indimenticabile.
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