A writing I learned from friends, but
without them. You taught me to love
, but without you. Life
with his pain teaches me to live, but almost
without life, and to work
but always out of work. So
then I learned to cry, but
without tears, to dream, but I do not see
dream inhuman figures.
no longer limit my patience.
I have no patience for nothing more, nothing remains
most of our luck.
Even I had to learn to hate
and friends, and you and the whole life.
There are those who, unlike me, do not despair,
that health and strength and virtue and good
Fortunately, we've got to die after
many beautiful days, filled with many
things of this world or another world;
or after so many days and the only joy
poorer days. I am happy,
in this world, only this and hope that I
fate confers with his
pests and mercy and sorrows
a single best day of all these
my painful days, or my pain
forget for a single
day.
(How long was my illness,
and much love my life in that
was close and crumpled like a rag, and I
pale and tired as a world
whole should bear all
on my back, I struggled so much, I imagined worlds
all very mild and more of my birds, so that
m'affliggeva and tormented,
and ravings of hidden truth
and quiet of the skies clear thoughts
where more than my soul could be broken
dwell, and could not find these
things that are not, and suffers)
My ailments have calmed,
and I got a job. They are less anxious and more
nice, and I'm lucky.
's spring now and spend time
free to turn down the street. I look
who knew no pain and I remember
the lost days. Waste my time
with friends and suffer a little
for my loneliness.
Now I have time to read to write
and maybe make a trip, and maybe not.
I'm happy and sad. They are distracted and wandering
I realize what is lost.
M'innamoro of things near and far,
work and are respected, then
I also found a slight edge,
in this world that you can not escape.
Maybe discover a new law
universal, and other things and men
will learn to love. But I have nostalgia
of impossible things, I want to go back
. Tomorrow I leave, and I drink and I see
chimeras and feel things disappear
far and near.
But beyond these truths, and within these
empty words I'm fit.
Now I only know that I am sitting at this table
, for many good reasons
time and I hate to spend.
And enough for me without even
curse. It is not losing the game, and then
makes good food.
martial art I want to learn, that always
can linger to hurt.
An abstract theater of shots and thoughts
per i giorni neri. E poi le gioie e insieme
con gli amici far niente.
Beppe Salvia - Braci n. 0, gennaio - marzo 1984
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