Bells Chant

When the evening gets lost in the fountains,

my hometown is of a mislaid color.

 

I am away, remembering his frogs,

the moon, the sad crickets’ trembling.

 

Rosario sings, and gets out of breath in the fields:

I am dead at the chant of the bells.

Foreigner, of my sweet floating over the land

do not be afraid: I am a love spirit,

who comes to his homeland from far away.

 

Pier Paolo Pasolini (Italy, 1922-1975), Poesie a Casarsa (1941-43) – 1. Casarsa

Image courtesy: The Ashes of Pasolini, Alfredo Jaar, still from video, 2009, color, 36 minutes (www.alfredojaar.net)

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