Life, I believe in you
The fog is clearing
and now I see you.
It wasn't easy
getting out of a past that cleansed my soul
almost to the point of making it worn-out.
Life, I believe you
you, so pure
that you don't know the way,
the art of defending myself.
And so I've lived almost rolling down
in order not to admit that I lost.
It happens sometimes that even angels, you know, get blemished 1
but pain too reaches the limit
and so it deletes everything 2 and a flower blooms over a foul fact.
We're angels with slightly raging wrinkles on our cheekbones 3
maybe a bit more tired, but freer
needy of a love that reaches those who want to breathe it
Life, I believe you
after I've looked at you for so long, now I sit down.
There are no re-matches, nor doubts or hesitations.
Now the bottom is clean, now I listen motionless to your caresses.
It happens sometimes that even angels, you know, get blemished
but pain too reaches the limit and so it deletes everything
and a flower blooms over a foul fact.
We're angels with wrinkles
maybe a bit more tired, but freer, slightly raging on our cheekbones
needy of a love that reaches those who want to breathe it.
1. "sporcarsi" means a lot of things. In common language it means to dirty oneself literally, but it might also figuratively mean "to get your hands dirty" or losing your pureness, getting flawed. 2. as in "it washes all away" 3. I have no idea what the writer meant with "raging cheekbones" and "raging wrinkles"