Il vecchio e il bambino [English translation]

An old man and a child, in each other hands,

set off together towards the dawn.

Red dust was rising further away

and the sun was shining with an outlandish light.

The immense expanse seemed to stretch

as far as the looking eye can fetch

and there was to be found nobody around

only the bleak outline of towers of smoke.

The two were walking, the day was waning,

the old man was talking and crying but softly,

with absent soul, with eyes full of tears

was following memories of bygone careers.

Old people endure the ravages of time,

unable to separate real and dreams

Old people don’t separate into their minds lies and truth in their own dreams.

And the old man stared, off into the distance,

and said: "Imagine this covered in wheat,

imagine the fruits, imagine the flowers

and picture in your mind the voices and the colours.

And in this prairie till its very end

trees were growing and everything was green,

rain fell down, and suns marked out

the rhythm of men and of the seasons."

The child stood silent, a sad look in his eyes

stupefied at things by nobody seen

and then he said, with a dreamy voice:

"I like fairy tales … tell me some more!"