A frightened figure in the shadows,
ragged and poor, but beautiful and rich,
feeling and twisted, but no poor:
she hides as best she can.
She is hated by most,
but loved by the very best.
Likes to travel far and wide,
she walks alone, barefoot in the dirt,
on unused roads , overgrown paths,
in animal tracks and dangerous beds.
Up, to the brink of heaven
in the load; madness in buckets and pails.
The sky cracks when she reaches up:
the hymn ends for flock of sheep.
Bright locks, sly smiles,
blue look, behind the shawl
milk white skin, chalk white teeth.
The laughter scares most people.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI