Red lips at the bottom

All thoughts disappear
All pain dies
All pain from your breath

Like the scent of summer
Listless days like corn stalks
I’m on my tiptoes

Countries, people and shadows

I am here to sort

The ditches in the fields also shine
The sun is like gold grass
Fading colors from the looms on the walls

Red lips at the bottom

Sitting in a row on a mulberry tree

Come and harvest my pain

The barrel  overflows with bile

Go and never crouch

The whistle of the wind through the branches
I’m on my tiptoes

Countries, people and shadows

I am here to sort

The ditches in the fields also  shine
The sun is like gold grass

Unravel the shroud, I am coming back

The journey around me is made of bone marrow

Fading colors from the looms on the walls

Red lips at the bottom

 

Singing and fear will be

Like scythes on the grass

And I am lost like drops

Get out of my hand prayer

There are voices that scream
There are steps to take here

 Clinging to those who are gone, with my arms

And legs

But not finding motivation to live

Never look back

 There are days to be born
and fires for warmth

(Translation by F.Zucchi)