L'autostrada [English translation]

The house was exactly at the border between wind and thirst,

a place inhabited by fairies

and few other forms of live equally tangible,

near the intersection of two dirt roads

which for no apparent reason crossed

and then hopelessly leave again,

just as sad as they had arrived;

anyway, someone once must have liked them,

if they were to be inhabited;

someone, who, standing at the intersection, thought: "Let's wait for the summer".

Summer in this parts is not a happy time at all:

the heat robs you of your peace,

Dust covers everything, it breaks your voice, smell of savoy cabbage gone bad

People passing by looks at use and move on fast,

They stare at us and move on fast,

sometimes they say hello, but they always move on fast.

If at least the highway was somewhere to be seen,

it would surely lead us to a city;

or else, to carry on, wherever it might go,

better, still better than here.

The church was just like the houses, but it had a cross

and maybe a little more paint

and a single light, provided by burning torches soaked in pitch.

It was there that I saw here, arm in arm with the priest;

it was the 5th of April, and a breeze blew by, bringing some color to the stillness, and smell of olive bread.

She saw me too,

and maybe she smiled,

I'm not sure, but maybe she really did smile,

because suddenly the smell of olive bread grew so much stronger.

People passing by looks at us and move on fast,

They stare at us and move on fast,

sometimes they say hello, but they always move on fast.

If at least the highway was somewhere to be seen,

it would surely lead us to a city;

or else, to carry on, wherever it might go,

better, still better than here.

Sometimes, something sweet and fatal happens:

like waking up to find it has snowed,

or like that day, when she smiled at me,

but without turning and running away.

To see her come near me was almost like dying,

like finding destiny by chance

and not knowing what to say;

but instead, it was her the one who talked:

"I like looking at the hidden side of the sun,

seeing that in the end it does move,

sleeping lying on a bed of violets",

she said, "and you, what do you like?"

"I like feeling the strength of a wing spreading,

flying far away, feeling like a bird of prey,

able to tell you: I love you, let's wait for summer, but let's do it together".

And at the same time, I wished I would disappear,

thinking of what I had to offer:

the intersection,

the house,

the church,

the cross,

the intersection, the house, the church, the cross,

and above all that, the atrocious spectacle of all those

People passing by, looking at us, and moving on fast,

they stare at us and move on fast,

sometimes they smile, but they always move on fast

People passing by, look at us and move on fast,

they stare at us and move on fast,

sometimes they say hello, but they always move on fast

People

passing buy

look at us

stare at us

and move on fast.