"I poeti sono disposti perfino a mentire, pur di dire sempre la verità".(Ermanno Muolo)
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T.S.
Eliot, The Waste
Land.
Today the sun is shining
yet it would be the same
And
you
you have no sense
to
me
Things that come
Things that go
Come and go
-shall we play?
Now
the
pink of the peach tree
and glitters the windscreen
your
messages
the cat mews
April
and so it is.
-but really?
Songs, songs
and
you
you have no sense
to
me
La versione originale della poesia è in : Variazioni su Tema
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