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halloween poetry

il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
vivo dalla riva del fiume
mille anni silenziosi fa
parla non bene
quando ero un ragazzo all'università
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
fra le montagne ho vagato
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
non brucio incenso
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
sono vecchio e cieco
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
ed il mio nome è sincero
ho detto, io ho chiuso il mio cuore

 



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