I
I buried every word of mine,
every reflection that refers to the
obverse of human fear. Today,
my world is a property of emptiness –
absent is the hope that belongs
to the morning delusion of the truth.
I think I have understood:
I glorified the banalities
– even if it be characteristic of
the melancholic moment that
overcomes me amid this confession of disorder.
From this side of the Adriatic daylight has almost appeared:
neither has the sky covered the fields behind the sea,
nor will I see the contours of previous summers.
II
I followed the roads,
left to the steps the silence
that is unbearable this time.
Broken from days that took flight
I almost heard the howls –
how the Mediterranean favourite of
the night became faithful to feelings.
Nothing could change
the arranged order among the expanses of land.
Suddenly, I remembered the time
in which indifference prevails over
the usual unease. Then,
while observing the distant shores,
I opened my cold thought.