lunedì 3 febbraio 2014


(by Abner Rossi – Traduzione di Arcangela Rossi)

He who among the spirits
lost a smile in the long winter months,
in the heavy fog ,in the rain,
without food, neck deep in the mud,
is definitely the spirit of a great hunter,
the spirit of fire that inflames,
the body of a homeless soldier
making a life for himself when he emigrates.

Then it is time for some meditation,
to turn reverie into explanation,
to release distances and places,
ideas, thoughts, far away islands.

Then it all gets closer,
It is defined and distinct,
It thickens and gets thin
and you are just a man with his want.

He alone,
a little man, me, with my
great awareness of being
passionate, alive,
careless and surprised to see
how often I fall in love.

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