Ys - Il Balletto Di Bronzo...

INTRODUCTION

The voice told

to the last who

remained in the world

the true reality.

And then ordered

to go to its people

to tell the truth

and the game started.

That voice pressed the chest

with the pain of the things understood

perhaps (it or he ?) was in time to tell

also to the others

perhaps (it or he ?) was in time to tell

also to the others.

What’s the life of a man who has cried

like seeing a clear sky

like staring your eyes into the sun

like catching a hand holded out.

And the voice pressed the chest

with the pain of lived things

he had to go soon, he had

to go soon.

Poetry of a windy day

the last leaf of a dead tree

the first April sunny day

a warm body a hand nearby.

FIRST MEETING

He went beyond the mounts and beyond again

never turning back to look

long is the journey he has to do

but he has to go yet.

A man is here, with the face downwards

and ivy already embraces his body

black is all his blood

wounds of ripped ears.

The voice forced him to shout

all that was to die inside himself

and all he shouted was brought away by the wind

and he would never hear something.

SECOND MEETING

He’ll see, he’ll see

even if he doesn’t be able to hear

what can tell him

a clear sky.

A face of an old man

already next to death

wasn’t faith before

now it’s strong.

The look of a  man

who doesn’t fear…

what is he if he miss

a steady voice

he has seen: the night,

the ending day,

women in the dark

who were ready to betray,

hands holded out,

absent faces,

good people die,

mighty people rejoice.

But he didn’t remain thinking

he had something to search for

and night not came, nor the day

and the horizon remained over there.

He did not surrender

he did never surrender

he didn’t asked himself:

man, where’re you going?

What he saw was another man

with his arms cross-bended

and he did not hear his voice…

he came near him and spoke to him.

But in those eyes with no light

prickly thorns were infixed

then he felt those wounds as his own

 and then light went away.

THIRD MEETING AND EPILOGUE

With spreaded arms

for the road in the darkness he searched

with the fingers a shape (something) he felt.

All he could feel

was

death’s coldness

between his hands,

his true word

came up from his chest another time.

But his mouth

tired and motionless remained

that shout crushed him,

ripped him inside

and the darkness around

came inside him

and light was never more.