I do not want to get old Poem by Davide Rondoni

I do not want to get old
because I have already been it a thousand times
and I already know the dark and that vile tempest

Now that I'm crying as I saw
my father cry,
the same wrinkle and the head
bent, full of dismay,
I learn that youth does not run
in the surprises of the blood
but in the look a wind
manages to get from the earth

to see in this hard land
the infinite similarity between God
and her face every night, the branches
naked against the sky, the wine
motionless in the glass . . .