English

 

 

DEAD FISH

 

 

 

 

 

The lifeless fish in the fountain,

Perhaps they can feel the coldness that has befallen them?

 

 

Perhaps they are regarding with astonishment

my new suit, worn like a skin of cloth 

rumpled by the birds of the air?

 

Every day, in the bus,

I pass near them,

 the man as always

 

Stooped over the fountain,

Polishing their stone scales.

 

The lifeless fish,

What do they think about

 If they cannot swim?

 

 

 

 

TANK CARPETS

 

 

 How pacifist the people here are,

Offering both cheeks,

if they had more they would offer them all

to their destiny;

 meanwhile, your lips search

for words that recollect.

 

 

Here

people do not know evil.

It’s better for them to be cooped up in boredom

- I almost prefer their meekness -

since they have known no wars.

It is as if Spielberg had not invaded

with his dinosaurs.

They do not bleed to death over the tunics of Kubrick.

 I say to them:

- Whatever shall i do with your bits of intelligence!

And i take cover under their umbrellas.

 

 

Here

they grin a lot, without fear,

they touch my growing beard

and burst out laughing:

- Talk to us about what you know, about your carpets.

C...A...R...P...E...t...S.

and they draw the word out like a bale of cloth.

 

 

 

People, here,

mistake me for a story-teller

and they generously carry me

in their arms,

with kindness.