(G.Guglielminetti - O.Avogadro)
Hurricane and clouds over a desperate landscape
and a motionless child looks straight at the sky in the middle of a meadow
wait for a flash an invention trembles but he is not afraid of it.
The air becomes clear again, a bit of moon is scattered in his hair
in the concave night he chews an American cigarette
in the universe there is a door and he swears that sooner or later he will find it
if it's just a dream it doesn't matter when he likes a dream he does it.
And that soft grass seems made especially for sleeping
and so he curls up like only a puppy can make
beyond the stars a continent and feel that sooner or later he will get there
if it's just a dream it doesn't matter, it's enough, it's better than reality.
Then the incomprehensible flash of light as white as snow
those who believe in fairy tales say it looked like a spaceship