I saw
people my age going away
along the streets that never lead to anything,
looking for the dream which leads to insanity
searching for something they do not find
in the world they already have,
inside the nights which are wet by the wine,
inside the rooms changed by the tablets 1,
along the clouds of smoke
in the world made of cities,
being against swallowing
our tired civilization
It's a God who is dead,
along the edges of the streets God is dead,
in the cars taken in installments God is dead,
in summer's myths God is dead...
I was told
that this generation of mine by now does not believe
in what has often been disguised with faith,
in eternal myths of the motherland or the hero
because by now has come the moment to deny
everything that is falsity, faiths made of habit and fear,
a policy that is just progressing in a career,
the concerned respectability, the dignity made of void,
the hypocrisy of who is always with righteousness and never with injustice
It's a God who is dead,
in the extermination camps God is dead,
with race's myths God is dead,
with (political) parties' hate God is dead...
But I think
that this generation of mine is ready
for a new world and a newborn hope,
a future that already has in its hands,
a revolt without weapons,
because by now we all know
that if God dies it is for three days
and then he rises again,
in what we believe God has rised again,
in what we want God has rised again,
in the world we will make God has rised again...