The lights went out again,
but the wood stove is on and so be it,
you'll sleep at my place,
but what dreams will you dream
with this moon that will tear apart
my laughter and your sombreness,
my horses and my foot soldiers1,
your deaf Hesse and your songs,
all the icicles dangling from wires,
all my games and your jewellery,
bell towers, fools, saints and happiness.
And the tv set isn't working
what are we going to do in these hours?
No noises can be heard,
let's have fun imagining what people are doing,
we let our prying fantasy roam free,
curious about idleness and secrets,
about everyday problems,
that are pushed away by sleep by night
or maybe, while one is dreaming
they become a cry or a smile on their face
paradise, hell, hands, hate and love.
If I had seven lives at hand
I'd creep into every house
and I'd become a brother, a lover
husband, son, king or highwayman,
beggar or player,
poet, blacksmith, Pope, farmer.
But I have this life and my fate
and now I ride the Apennines
and I shout to the deepest darkness
my desire to live in the world
after all, it's a fun game,
making love a lot and not drinking moderately.
And this darkness - it's such a relief -
it gives us a new Middle Age
I remove from darkness
all our civilization
the speed of motor vehicles
the craziness of crowds and noise
and I put in ancient rhythms
of animals, wood, human sounds,
the smell of lamp oil and candles
the rustle of ropes and sails
honey, milk, bread and honest wine.
But who knows if those times
were really so good
or maybe it's just a lantern show
for the uncertainty we lull
with this carousel of figures and sounds,
lights and delusions on screens,
good and bad sideshows,
endless escapes from reality,
so much so that just a little darkness is enough
to give us serenity
semplicity, taste, salt and refrains.
I don't want many lives at hand
this one we live is enough,
ordinary days, strenuous and lazy,
the uncertain mirrors of my books,
the tigers of my imagination,
sadness and optimism and irony.
Alas, what a chatterbox [I am]
what a tangled web we weave,
I know, we have been talking for a long time,
but it's so nice, let's stay awake,
let's drink some more wine,
two swigs and it's morning already.
Come on, wake up, look around,
the new day is arriving,
the starling and the blackbird are flying already
you don't want to sleep like a log2!
There's no black-out anymore, it's over
the old fridge is running again,
with its croaky, sad sounds
it coughs futurist verses.
I know, we have been awake ever since,
but we are still missing something...
let's go out with a bang, my love,
and then, when it's the middle of the day, I'll sleep too.
1. if referring to playing cards, it means "my queens and my knaves" 2. literally: to sleep like a dormouse