There are days that end up at dawn
as if that light that flickers out
was still the beginning of a long day.
One of those where you sleep at night
Rocking the bed motionless for hours
Look out at specific intervals
and pray that those clouds do not become low
There are days where you keep aloof
where emotions inside the belly t'arrotolano
and who have a clue,
compelling evidence that makes you guilty
There are days that end up at dawn
over a viaduct and think back to that man
what were you running left unfinished immersed in the mud
Feel the wind that penetrates you and the skirt flares
and themes like a shiver of fear down my spine
as if I were still locked in the bathroom
to wonder if a wool sweater would be enough
for a whole night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem