Canzone per l'estate [English translation]

With your wife washing dishes in the kitchen and not understanding

with your daughter trying on his new dress and smiling

With the radio buzzing

strange things about the world

and the breath of your sleeping dog.

With your saints alwes ready

to bless your hard work for food

with your blond baby

whom you gifted with a gun for christmas

that looks real

with the bed were your wife

was never able to give

and your glasses which you'll have to change in a while

Why can't you fly anymore?

With your windows open on the street and your eyes closed on people

With your calm, awarness, eternal satisfaction

your spare tail

your clouds for rent

your swallows scouting on the roof

with your episodic Franciscanism

your sweet solidity

your washed oxygen

and your waves, balanced in a room

with the permission to transmit

and the prohibition to talk

and everyday another day to count

Why can't you fly anymore?

with your slow passions, specified by seasonal memories

and a sleeping beauty who wakes up

for every present you give

with your collecting

complicate words

your last song for summer

with your paper hands to envelop other normal hands

with the idion in the garden selecting your best roses

with your mountain cold

and the prohibition to sweat

and nothing else to feel ashemed of

Why can't you fly anymore?