Venice, dying,
Venice, leaning on the sea,
the sweet obsession of its last, sad days,
Venice sells it to the tourists
searching for Europe or the East in the crowd,
watching the smoke - or the anger - rising in the evening
from Porto Marghera1...
Stefania was beautiful,
Stefania was always healthy,
but she died in childbirth, screaming, in a sweaty bed
in a large hospital.
She was 20 years old, had a husband and a ring on her finger:
disoriented, her relatives told me that her breath
almost got caught among her teeth.
Venice is a hotel
San Marco for sure is also the name of a pizzeria
a gondola [ride] is expensive, a gondola is just another ride on the carousel.
In summer, Stefania
used to play with me in those empty, idle Sundays.
My mother was talking, her mother was selling Venice in her shop.
Venice is also a dream
one of those you can buy,
but you can't wake up in dire straits
with a pain at sea level.
The Doge moved out and among a thousand windows
there's only the wailing of a newborn, there's only
the siren of Mestre2...
Stefania, while sinking,
Stefania left something:
Novella Duemila3 and a rose on her bedside table,
Stefania left a baby.
I don't know if her relatives truly suffered
watching her being murdered, dying alone
in a large hospital.
Venice is a fraud
filling your head with fatality,
you don't know a damn thing about the rest of the world,
Venice is people who don't give a damn.
Stefania is a baby
buying or selling Venice will be his destiny:
maybe one day we'll be happy
to be nothing more than distant relatives...
1. Port and industrial zone on the mainland, west of the historical city 2. Large suburb on the mainland 3. Weekly celebrity magazine