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.

And while I hide myself inside this room

 

LISTEN TO - ASCOLTA

Spring is coming 

and I’m dying inside 

I am tragic and pathetic 

it’s right 

it’s so difficult 

to admit I know 

that I have not gained nothing at all 

People are 

greatly far from me 

I’m ashamed 

I can say nothing 

I perfectly know 

they can judge me worse 

than what I do already by my own 

And while I hide myself inside this room 

the sun is penetrating through the window 

and the curtains seem to be of gold 

And I have a fight inside my soul 

my ruined face is only the mirror 

and the place where I combat my war 

In my depth 

there’s still a breath 

a hope 

to start again 

the battle end

I lost 

after the defeat 

I admit the thing 

and I can be a new man from here 

And while I hide myself inside this room 

the sun is penetrating through the window 

and the curtains seem to be of gold 

And I have a fight inside my soul 

my ruined face is only the mirror 

and the place where I combat my war

Io prego prego

Io prego prego 

non posso esser altro 

che preghiera, 

le mani giunte 

pulsano al ritmo 

del cuore 

la voce esausta 

rimbomba 

in un sacro altrove 

nello stomaco 

la paura atavica 

di restare solo. 

Io prego prego 

non posso esser altro 

che preghiera.