The blanket


My friend Bruno was riding

as a child on the push bike singing

in a language that does not exist.

He liked the passers by were

always thinking he was a stranger.

I was thinking I was a king, with the great

blanket of my parents on the shoulders,

I was welcoming dignitaries in the kitchen,

I was planning the wars and the peace,

I was drawing the world politics.

This history ended well

because it has still to end: we did never

ended to play.




Roberto Pazzi (Italy, 1946 -) fromĀ Il Re, le parole (Lacaita, 1980), translation by Slow Words



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