Free Mini Serie Onlline

Milo De Angelis: Una poesia, dopo Il tema dell'addìo

It 's late. The memory of a man was

only this handful of syllables. Only
their return from the dark cellars
inhabited by nothing:

breast destroyed, ad deported something that does not regenerate dying

silent and enters in its order.
are punctual,
are thrown against the rocks,
have no smell or sound, whisper
words shocked, I'm a beat
wings outstretched, blind, faithful to an order
obscure. Now you must translate
.