sonnets

D’ you know I was an actor in my youth?
No, not curtains, stages and equipments, lights…
No: delirious and bare bodies only,
the voices and the eyes of gods, the sweat.

Around, the audience watched the scene with fear:
the flights and the resounding falls, the stomach
of the earth and the disquieting scary moves
of animals and of the dying ones.

We got out of that place with no applause,
surprised how could an hour be so short
although you’ve been chained to an untrue yoke.

We gave no help to the lurked critic, no,
that he could grasp our logos well that day,
and so we left him with his paper dumb.

translation by Marco Maurizi