Red box for letters,
Red lights for stopping,
Red spades for digging,
Red balls for throwing.
Red boots for puddles,
Red kites for flying,
Red clouds at sunset,
Red fruit for picking.
Red eyes from crying,
Red knees from falling,
Red bows for tying,
Red shoes for dancing.
Red cheeks from running,
Red face from fibbing,
Red flames for warming,
Red hearts for loving.
(And “Red wine for Daddy!” says Lucy!)
Sul Monte Pellegrino,
Nelle ombre dei pini,
Ho ascoltato, sotto i miei piedi,
La voce stanca delle pietre.
“Siamo create dal fuoco
E dalla forza
Degli anni innumerevoli.
Abbiamo conosciuto
La gioia e la tristezza,
La sofferenza e l’abbandono.
Le piogge dei secoli
Non hanno lavato
Il sangue dalla nostra faccia.
Ma, alla fine,
I dettagli della nostra storia
Significano niente.
Impara soltanto da noi,
O Pellegrino,
La lezione unica e preziosa
Della nostra esperienza:
La vita è breve!
Siamo tutti, anche tu,
Fiori di campo,
Colore vulnerabile,
Profumi effimeri,
Petali fragili.’
Palermo, Sicily Pasqua 2003
Corrected for me by Stefania, 22nd July 2003
Be not like Janus! Turn away!
Resist the magnet of dead years!
False gods survive in ancient stones
Nostalgia bears no fruit but tears.
Imbibe the lesson of the wine,
Cast out the pitcher and the glass!
Tomorrow’s bottles are being blown,
Between the vines the pickers pass.
If all the ages of past time
Are crystallized somewhere in me,
It is to shape tomorrow’s mould,
To sow the drill and plant the tree.
Respect the flowing of the tide,
Each surge creates the shore anew:
Change slowly makes us what we are,
Assist the birthing of the new!
1994
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
You must be logged in to post a comment.