Little blind eel

You are mean with the guilt

Of a little blind eel
More fragile than a crystal vase

But there is appetite for you
Feeling depressed though on track
Heck I’m swinging

You’re like the wind that carries seeds around
A sheet of paper

Upon which nothing is ever written

Putting yourself at odds with your head
Mating night and day
Cooling down not to get hurt

If there is anything left

Crying has never been of any use
If there is anything left, it is deep down

Bent over not to avoid damage

Being in distress, letting a rogue read your hands
Turned wicked by the departure

Scared of the return

Looking minute and pale
Looking  like a wet rag
Looking slender like a willow

Desert is what remains

My poor little blind eel
More fragile than a crystal vase

But there is appetite for you
Depressed though on track
Heck I’m swinging

If there is anything left

Crying has never been of any use
If there is anything left, it is deep down

Bent over not to avoid damage

Venturing stained of darkness
Sniffing out, deceiving or singing
The cymbals are already playing
Holding back,  loosing and finding each other

(Translation by F.Zucchi)