In a moment
In a moment
The roses have faded
The petals have fallen
Because I could not forget the roses
We looked for together
We found some roses
They were her roses they were my roses
This trip we called love
With our blood and with our tears we made the roses
That shined a moment in the morning sun
We faded them under the sun in between the brambles
The roses that were not our roses
My roses her roses
P.S. And like that we forgot the roses
The night
Their shadows slithered along the ruined reddish walls: he followed, robotically. He said to the woman one word that fell in the silence of the afternoon: an old man turned to look at him with a gaze absurd shining and empty. And the woman smiled always a smile feeble in the afternoon aridity, stupid and alone in the catastrophic light.
The windowpane
The evening smoky of summer
From above the windowpane pours out dim light through the shadow
And leaves in my heart an ardent seal,
But who has (on the balcony overlooking the river a lamp turns on) who has
At Madonnina del Ponte who is who is who has turned on a lamp?–there’s
In the room an odor of rottenness: there’s
In the room a languishing red wound.
The stars are buttons made of mother of pearl and the evening dresses herself in velvet:
And the fatuous evening quivers: the evening is fatuous and it quivers but there’s
In the heart of the evening there’s,
Always a languishing red wound.
Oh poem poem poem
Oh poem poem poem
Rise, rise, rise
Up from the electric fever of the nightly pavement.
Unstoppable from the equivocal elastic silhouettes
Darts in the burst and in the sudden scream
Over the monotonous and anonymous shooting
Of voices which tireless like flutes
The perverted whore screams at the intersection
Because the big elegant man stole her little dog
A wanton grasshopper jumps
From one sidewalk to another all green
And galls the core of my bread the metal rasps of the streetcar
Silence–a lightening gesture
Has generated a rain of stars
From one side that bows and collapses under the prestigious hit
In an eye-catching cape of velvety blood
Silence again. Comments dry
And deaf a revolver that announces
And closes another destiny.
Easy poem
I am not looking for peace, I cannot stand war
tranquil and alone I go around the world in a dream
full of suffocated songs. I long for
fog and silence in a grand port.
In a grand port full of slight sails
ready to take off for the azure horizon
sweetly swaying, while the whisper
of the wind passes with brief accords.
And those accords the wind brings
faraway over the unknown sea.
Dream. Life is sad and I am alone.
Oh when oh when in an ardent morning
will my soul awaken in the sun
in the eternal sun, free and quivering.