The resa

Under the sky
life goes fast,
between shock and yawn,
and in a blink of an eye and another
wars begin and end,
restart.
Under the sky
la morte intride di sé tutta la vita che c'è,
truncating breaths young
and old illusions,
breaking horizons
and eating children.
I feel, together with the wind,
a warm shiver on the skin,
that tells me
a time never existed
where the breaths grew old
and the children flew,
each to his horizon,
like swarms of butterflies,
without the burden
a foolish price to pay.
A time when
miracles were born in the heart
of all,
incomprehensible without discrimination,
without the Case,
with the mask of any God,
good or bad,
he enjoyed ration smile
and flood of tears
this helpless humanity and presumptuous.
The wind
steals my dream
and the thrill that I have left
to meander among the weary bones
mi riporta l'immagine
real
a life on my knees,
who surrenders,
the background of a sea which flows,
horizon from a broken,
nell'ignoto
of a blue sky and empty,
in which a world away
is farther and farther away
while promising
denies
one glimmer of hope.