Figura del Centurione

(Trans. by Michael Mc Donald, in "ContemThe figure of the centurion)
Lord I'm not worthy
-worthy no
on the contrary, half drunk
or entirely ashamed
to stand here like a stone, a rock,
a sword,
just imagine too
to invite you to dinner,
to share your table
to divvy up my left-overs, the coldness
of my meals, the stupid checkered
tablecloth, the uneven
chair, the already open bottle,
and the shadow of that obscene forehead - 
or just to take you out for a drink
here nearby at the first bar.
But tell me,
tell me just and only,
a word, a thing,
a little bird-like voice,
tell me just and only
a mere trifle - whatever comes
into your mind or your head
so crowned by sky
and storm
tell me just and only
perhaps let slip
a grain of your prayers
or don't even say anything
I will scarcely read on your lips
or sense with my eyes lowered
that a kiss of air has arisen
and will be saved
from the hyenas of my errors
and my wasted soul will have
full life.