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 -) from Il Re, le parole (Lacaita, 1980), translation by Slow Words
To read more about the poet and the writer: http://www.roberto-pazzi.it/