Just before a sunset of April

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA

Just before a sunset of April 

I can see some fire behind the hills 

I am not a liar if I say 

there’s a little little hope inside 

Just before a sunset of April 

somewhere can I find a drop of peace? 

I know it’s only a moment 

the only thing I can do is to sip 

Then a sudden motion 

or a wrong word 

make all the devotion 

falling on the floor 

I’m in a deep ocean 

I can see no coast 

and no magic lotion 

can help me to solve 

Just before a sunset of April 

the truce with myself is so fragile 

It’s enough a blow of wind 

to scrape all my little hopes away 

Then a sudden motion 

or a wrong word 

make all the devotion 

falling on the floor 

I’m in a deep ocean 

I can see no coast 

and no magic lotion 

can help me to solve

Aprile virgulto sacro

 

Aprile virgulto sacro 

rendimi eupnoico 

taglia le redini oscure 

della mia sofferenza 

concedimi almeno 

una lama fradicia 

del nuovo sole.

How can I call spring

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA

How can I call spring this darkness that I’ve got inside? 

It shouldn't be proper to live bad also in this time 

 I had a hope, that I have no more 

while the blossom is covered by snow 

How can I call spring the sadness that devours my mind 

I’ve tried to cover it but I lost my eyes 

now the new season is arrived here 

while all the reasons have gone so far 

Spring spring spring 

give me back that dream 

during which I had still some peace 

and I had still the strength to fight 

and I had still the will to try 

to live 

How can I call spring this cold wind from the stars?

Winter’s a prison I want to flee out so hard 

I have a face that I believe 

it’s a mistake I can’t erase 

Spring spring spring 

give me back that dream 

during which I had still some peace 

and I had still the strength to fight 

and I had still the will to try 

to live

I would like to be another man

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I am so sad 

the time collapses 

a sort of hangover 

without that mess 

 

And step by step 

I can become bad 

towards the others 

towards myself 

 

I would like to be another man 

with a different face and stronger hands 

someone who doesn’t try to find some sense 

in everywhere 

 

I would like to fly somewhere else 

where I have some light over my head 

without being frightened for all the gazes 

I could have 

 

This dark land 

I know so well 

it is becoming 

a sort of friend 

 

But it’s not proper 

to live this distress 

all the days I have 

since the hope is dead 

 

I would like to be another man 

with a different face and stronger hands 

someone who doesn’t try to find some sense 

in everywhere

 

I would like to fly somewhere else 

where I have some light over my head 

without being frightened for all the gazes 

I could have

Dopo la morte

 

Il vento ulula alla notte 

chiamandola per nome 

e lei arriva suadente 

proprio dopo la morte 

attesa e agognata 

di Heathcliff. 

Racconta con asprezza 

la natura dell'eternità: 

non un gioco di intenti 

non una speranza estrema 

ma ragnatela complessa 

da tessere nel quotidiano.

Febbraio parentesi

 

Febbraio parentesi 

aperta nello strazio 

più intimo 

nel midollo 

lacrime coltelli 

tagli sul viso 

e nel cuore 

luna che fugge 

dall’abbaino 

febbraio parentesi 

ancora da chiudere.

Il fuoco è un linguaggio

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Il fuoco è un linguaggio 

segreto, esoterico

eppure intuitivo

immediato. 

 

Questo sole 

di fine febbraio 

è solo un barlume 

del fuoco primigenio. 

 

Racconta 

la fine di un’era

senza svelare 

ciò che verrà.