I was putting in place the old high school books, I found among the collection of poems that in fact could not find a little more.
I stumbled on this again, and I was frozen.
I love Pasolini, above all because it manages to be polished in their torment. Not
welcomes it, does not call justifications to his way of being, speaks of himself with a moving clarity.
He speaks of his mother, I have found it more than me as a daughter.
It 'difficult to say in a child
what they look like little heart.
You are alone in the world who knows my heart,
what has always been, first of all other love.
So, I must say this is terrible to know:
is in your grace that my anguish grew.
You are irreplaceable. For this is damned
solitude life you gave me.
And I will not be alone. I have an endless hunger
of love, the love of bodies without souls.
Because the soul is in you, you, but you
are my mother and your love is my slavery
I spent my childhood sense a slave to this
lofty incurable, a huge commitment.
was the only way to feel life,
the only color, the only way now is over.
survive, is the confusion
a renewed life beyond reason.
I beg you, ah, I beg you: do not want to die.
I'm here alone with you, a future in April.
0 comments:
Post a Comment