With your sad thoughts
you roam about the crowded streets
your imagination
your tender cloud of dream
surrounds you and protects you
no one understands you yet
people say you are changeable
maybe you are devoid of feelings
born tired
but what do they know
about what I have inside me
traffic noise
overlapping words
baby crying
an old woman fell from the tram
selling-off
downward
sale
at the flower market
the air is more fragrant than usual
a puppy wag its tail between my legs
it looks like a flock of cotton
reflected in the shop window
my image meek
and proud at the same time
wants to tell me many things
but I am already far
in front of another cloud
who knows perhaps still in vain
late at night in my gray doorway
I am crying
they say with no reason
“it’s spring”.
Eugenio Farina
