In Corso Buenos Aires
all day the trolleybuses are passing there
and armored cars are passing there (too)
with handcuffed prisoners
who are looking, and aren't seeing.
Poor Fogagnolo, he wasn't a cinema actor:
he introduces himself, he gives you a chance,
he whispers his surname and first name
from the list of the victims.
And he has made me a gift:
a tram ticket
to come back in Piazzale Loreto
Esposito at the gardens
is reading the want ads,
and you see him on one hundred benches,
or waiting in never-ending queues
he's asking for justice, and (he wants it) now.
They gave to Poletti
seven letters on a gravestone,
and the people who pass by and see them
reckon a bit, and then they ask themselves
- Isn't that a useless expense?
- Wouldn't have a ticket sufficed?
a tram ticket
to come back in Piazzale Loreto?