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[my Italian translation of 'Paris' - Poem by Harold Pinter]
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'Parigi'
La tenda bianca a pieghe,
Lei fa due passi e si volta,
La tenda immobile, la luce
Esita nei suoi occhi.
Le lampade dorate.
Il pomeriggio indugia, silenzioso.
Lei danza nella mia vita.
Il biancore del giorno brucia.
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'Paris' - Poem by Harold Pinter
The curtain white in folds,
She walks two steps and turns,
The curtain still, the light
Staggers in her eyes.
The lamps are golden.
Afternoon leans, silently.
She dances in my life.
The white day burns.
Love Pinter's plays. Not familiar with his verse. A lovely introduction. Thank you.
Harold Pinter was a playwright, first of all, therefore his poetry is -basically- 'without frills'.. I like it for this quality: it gets to the point without mince words :)