CHILDHOOD Comments

The sea, immense and blue,
deep tomb of pirates and of treasures,
was there far away,
behind the mountains.
It was an absence.
The rivers, too, were absent ones.
Their waters, under the earth,
flowed, thick and dark,
carrying waste and trash.
And beauty also hid.
It rarely went out on the street.
Sometimes she peeked in,
with the sun in the courtyard,
or through the eyes of the cat on the roof.
And voyages had to be imaginary,
poor, lukewarm daydreams
in the dark and cold corners
where all the roads began.
So every voyage had to be a project,
and every project
a secret, unspeakable voyage.
And the empty plots where I played football
were slowly filled with houses.
You had to walk very far to find a place
where there would be no strangers.
The walk home from school:
that simulacrum of the Odyssey.
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