I’ll tell you a secret:
when I was 20, I was standing naked on a deck,
waves in front of me and someone pushing from behind;
from the ship, they were shouting «Move!»,
but I couldn’t take a single step;
in the abyss, the livid chill of uplands;
I had never conquered the sea,
to start swimming, I overcame my fears,
despite the darkness, despite my empty belly;
people who dive into the water, flail their arms about,
what would you expect me to do?
I swallow water and spit it out, I struggle, I swallow water and spit it out;
nothing can placate me, nothing and nobody, nobody.
Dive, North America,
dive into me.
I have the heart of an ocean,
and I placate my storm
with my feet and my head,
in the womb of the tide.
Father,
when you gave me to that ship you were positive,
but if you give your son to the sea,
don’t expect it to bring him back to you alive;
because the sea loves me
and holds me in the current;
I swim like a dog, and it’s keeping me on tethers, like they do with dogs.1
The wave is crushing me, like my crave for the shore;
I’m running from post-war, from my land,
right, but how has it ended up?
It’s ended up with me swallowing seaweeds and sand,
my pride and my rage too,
and I can hear the ratatata of the machine gun,
and the flagship is sending out orders,
the spotlights of helicopters;
you lazy soul, look: my soul is migrating together with flamingos.
And you, just contend for what is left:
the investigation, the ink, the monster, your bread!
Dive, North America,
dive into me.
I have the heart of an ocean,
and you’re not coming for me…
Dive, North America,
dive into me,
into my heart of ocean,
a hostage to the storm
that’s suffocating my head
in the womb of the tide.
I’m not striving for the heavenly kingdom,
and I’m not striving for that of abysses:
I just want land;
you may call it holy,
you may call it new,
you may call it the promised land,
or the middle earth;
you may call it as you like best.
I want land, and I want it firm,2
as firm as I am at night when
I’m gambling my life playing dice with the devil.
I don’t want to die,
but how many dead people around are still living, and would still be living?
What are you waiting for? Dive!
Dive, North America,
dive into me.
I have the heart of an ocean,
Come on, come for me.
Dive, North America,
dive into me.
I have the heart of an ocean,
Come on, come for me.
Dive, North America,
dive into me.
I have the heart of an ocean,
and I placate my storm
with my feet and my head,
in the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
In the womb of the tide.
1. da cani {like dogs; for dogs} = very badly.2. terraferma {still/stable/stationary land} = mainland.