The little door
was a small port (green) recently dyed. Knocking
felt a push
unspeakable, and was always open my
(
unclean and bitter) a figure of a woman
long and lean in his disheveled look.
entered the night with me,
immediately into the wall.
I climbed a ladder to board
gnawing,
and never knew if I was,
to blow out the candle, the black
wetness of the sea or the breath of my companion.
fact I had a bitch
(vagabond) who followed me.
The whole day sleeping,
defeat, including lemons, but at night
(
fours and moist) followed me
very wet, saliva,
your fingertips.
Maybe it was my entire life, I licked. But
came through the door
green, with more hesitation
ever happened that was from my
Genova (I left), who died
I have wept and buried,
the thud of the door. Yet I wept
Genoa
the last time, entered.
The day was not born yet, and bells
and glory (maybe it was
feast of soul, and resurrection)
head fills me with dismay the wind.
Ascent of the Cough
red girls chanted.
Girls in
slippers and no socks (the morse
calcaneus and the neck of the tooth
thinner at that compelling),
went, walked
a shiver, that I did on the climb
alone
already singing of a nightingale.
Genoa
of all life arose on that climb. Follow the calves
white and cold, and invitations
vehement on that stretch from the port
, net
rose from coal, which already
blue frost sparkled on the quay.
I went, I do not know how to say, that
driven by coal.
But suddenly I was no longer a father
(without
mother and family, and victory),
and only in the horn of
stairs, back
I retorted, the tomb
reopening the door
scattatami already behind.
That fresh smell of life
stung me on the climb!
Girls was opened up and live in true
light-colored clothing (girls like flags,
already summer, bathing),
outreach
the armpits down,
of clams and a smell of powder to mix
moving air, Righi from the sea
had white arms and black eyes. With a policeman
me like he was watching!
I sat myself down
following swarming
young, and if the curtains, white
to blind, already
I felt the pop
canvas, ahi me in tears
sea - ah the bells
stormente
green water in my ear, and mind
(green, and recently dead), which
more so I could push
of the day in the air now, knock.
Giorgio Caproni
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