Incontro [English translation]

And running she met me down the stairs

almost nothing seemed to be changed in her to me.

Then sadness enveloped us like honey

for the time slipped on us.

The sun going down already

reddened the city

before of us and now foreign

and incredible and cold

like an instant "deja vu"

shadow of youth the fog was around us.

Stable cars were looking us in silence,

old walls were proposing new heroes.

Ten years to tell each other,

but sentences remained inside us

"What do you do now? Do you remember...?

Our times were beautiful!

I have written you... It's one year...

They told me you were still away"

Then dinner at her home

my new courtesy

flatware coloured nostalgia.

And sentences, like we were two olds,

were running after time behind us.

For the first time I saw those mirrors

I understood pictures, ornaments and her parents.

Our myths dead now,

the discover of Hemingway,

feeling new,

things dreamed and now seen.

My America and hers

become in the way

our city so sad.

Papers and wind fly away at the station

cold and lights on maybe for us there

and finally in short her situation

like a lot of our films.

Like in a bad written book

he killed himself in Christmas,

but the sad story seemed to be absorbed by the dark.

Poor friend who was telling

ten year in few sentences

and I (was telling) mine in one greeting.

And I was thinking swung by the wagon

"Dear friend, time takes and time gives.

We always run in one direction,

but who knows what is and what sense has!

Timeless dreams remain,

impressions of a moment,

the lights of homes glimpsed in the darkness from a train.

We are something that don't remain

empty sentences in the head

and the heart full of symbols.