Christmas was coming between distant and close sounds of merry bagpipes. They flew far in the air blown away by the wind the last dry leaves of poplars and chestnuts. At the first light of a pale sun we had left in peace – following two opposite paths – headed to work. Father had greeted […]
Ah, comm’è triste sta chitarra mia, mo ca sta abbandunata ‘nfaccia ‘o muro. Mo ca pe’ mme tutt’è malincunia e l’uocchie sò lucente e ‘o core è scuro. Guardo stu sole che tramonta, ‘o sole che more lentamente. E penzo a tte, Bene passato, e cerco ddoie parole pe’ na poesia ca te parlasse ‘e […]
Nuttata da na fella ‘e luna tagliata. Ma nun s’arape nu spiraglio dint’ ‘o scuro ‘e sta freve. Nun c’è luce pe’ nu sbaglio, dint’a sta nuttata blu. Giuseppe Carullo, Poesie (edizioni Unione Napoletana Autori, 1971)
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