Where the imaginary world crosses the border
behind organ music
chasing the shadow
in the gallery of the portraits
paintings out of time
without frames
across the board
alive like glowing embers
barely kept
by the fist
in dismay
plastic movement
of the person who lived there
“workshop open only to the closest friends”
atmosphere full of pathos
the poet can hardly move
he perceives the tears of the walls
the sighs of the wind
the fleeting flash at the sight
of a cunning squirrel
while the sunshine
suddenly peeps out
to bring everything
back to the start
in a mild October
in Gardone Riviera
more beautiful than ever
