Clof, clop, cloch,
Cloffete,
Cloppete,
Clocchete,
Chchch...
The poor
Sick
Fountain
Is down
In the courtyard;
Hearing
It cough,
What a pang!
It coughs,
Coughs,
Stands still
A bit...
Coughs
Again.
My poor
Fountain,
Your pain
Presses
My heart.
It stands still,
One can't hear
Any
Noise,
Maybe...
Maybe...
Is it dead?
Horror!
Ah! no.
Here it's again,
It coughs
Again.
Clof, clop, cloch,
Cloffete,
Cloppete,
Clocchete,
Chchch...
The phthisis
Is killing it.
Oh my God!
Its
Eternal
Cough
Is the death
Of me;
A little,
Well and good,
But a lot...
What a lamentation!
But Habel!
Victoria!
Go,
Run,
Turn the spring off,
Its
Eternal
Cough
Is the death of me!
Go,
Place
Something
To put
An end to it,
Maybe...
Maybe
To die.
Heavens!
Jesus!
Never more!
Never more.
In the end
With your
Ill,
My poor
Fountain,
You'll see you kill
Me as well.
Clof, clop, cloch,
Cloffete,
Cloppete,
Clocchete,
Chchch...
(Translated from Italian by P.G.Mazzarello)
Very creative and different from all i have read.....Lovely! ! ! Cate
Oh, yes, this is 'The Sick Fountain', you have mentioned, commenting the new Tick-Tock-ing poem of David Desantis! Yes - it is a resemblance and both poems are very good. Well done!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Producing sounds and exclaimations in words is not easy, this piece succeeds in its meaning and expression,10+