Et pourtant il disait quelque chose.
Il parlait. On se parlait. Ses mots étaient de plus
en plus rares.
Il parle. La nuit tombe d'un mot à l'autre, de
syllabe en syllabe.
Il voit les objets. les couleurs disparaître,
s'écouler dans leurs ombres. Il les regarde
s'effacer, il les regarde de plus en plus
intensément.
Seul le blanc résiste au noir.
Qui s'amasse.
Jusqu'où
(circular)
there pivots Prima Ballerina
upon her pleated tutu
the alive layer raised the black flag
then
the dead layer raised the white flag
to do the wave
for the grandstand
(centripetal)
the Stadium still-life printing
the fliptomania
hands holding out to cling
to the caterpillar track-pirouette
(centrifugal)
the Merry-Go-Round
was shredding its vertego
I will grasp the distance
and gently rub my palms
one
against the other
pieces of broken glass slipping through my fingers
no, not the happiness
and you’ll drink in the last drop until you reach fear
we’ll seed the wood into the first tree
of each village
behind us like a dragon
the embraced angels
bring the fatality of an ascending path
then
only then
I will arise in you
spring came with her multitudes
like a palm sunday procession
entered town thru the front door
walking down the street
as the soul walks from
father to mother
the bird from the town hall clock went out
to welcome her
fell over winter rags
pouring the time over people
spring
this daughter of time
put on too much perfume
her round breasts are like two strawberries
Ho sete di te dolce amore.
Del tuo tocco morbido,
dalle tue labbra con sapore di rossa,
del tuo fresco respiro
che rinfresca l'anima
sotto la pioggia del desiderio ardente.
Immortalato
il mio destino
sarà per sempre.
Ho sete di te mio dolce amore.
Delle tue parole affascinante,
dalla musica cristalina del magico canto,
dei tuoi versi melodiosi
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