Poco da vivere

Così poco da viver

Così  tanto da amare

Mortale candore 

Tra pini ghiacciati

Odore e fresco 

Tra capelli e sputi

A volare 

Si cade con piedi

Inzuppati di sangue 

Così poco

Da amare 

Vita mia che tremi soltanto

Nelle viscere del mio essere

Così tanto da vivere 

Morendo di paura 

E amore 

Il cui solo argomento

È il voler le alidi sogno 

Del profuso ardente lamento.


I can not find peace

Among the banners of melancholy
And jealousy
on which
I wrapped myself
As soon as night falls
Neither love
Dozing in wind’s rattles
A slight tingling song
It gives me reassurance
Neither the blanket of ghosts
Of days gone by
never disappeared
They return to daylight.
And then I write
For not die
in solitude
Because of loneliness
Someone not die , but growing.
I am growing in mine
In the basics of anything that I am
Nothing of bones and flesh
And even less of breath
That I take off plan
Smoking and observing
The flow of this river
called misery
Wets feet and eyes
It bathe me indistinctly
So can not forget
This loneliness
In which I grows
As a rotten plant
Waiting to die.