Sosta in stazione

Station stop


Nights of empty trains
motionless, of loudspeakers
which announce cities
to deserted benches,
of diminished noises,
the clicks of cigarettes lighters, the dropping
of cans in other
compartments, dark
wind at the windows,
the line-up
of closed buildings, of a thousand
blinded rooms.
And then fever, which spreads
over your face, dawn
at last following dreams
rough, impassioned, irregular.


Look at what a sea-like light there is in Florence today...