Paolo Conte
Miscellaneous
Twentieth century
They say that those skies are suitable
for horses and that the streets
are stage dust
They say that in the houses pale women
over the old «Singer» they sew
the gingham dusters,
clothes that stay taut against the wind
and everything else is bullshit,
old work Chinese… eh… eh…
They say that that old song
from the nineteenth century makes certain dolls smile
in a sweet dream, all pierced by an Indian arrow,< br/>memories of the previous century, stuff from a distant era,
era glimpsed in the white glow
that shoots the flash of magnesium
on the crazy red of the manganese... eh⦠eh⠦
Indicted was the silence and the Great Spirit,
who slowed the frost, chased
the crows from the hill... like an old cook in a kitchen
scolds the ghosts of gourmets
in a slow chant... Let's leave it alone, let's leave it alone, let's go
we don't know where we were
in that morning to see... ehâ ¦ ehâ¦
Where were we on that morning
when the twentieth century was running
the great moccasin competitions...
up there, on the Pleistocene stage,
on the prehistoric plateau
first volcanic and then galvanic...
they say it's all vanilla,
a great battle,
a strong wonder... eh... eh...
Galvanized the wind opened up
all the garages and released large enthusiastic engines...
the straw whirled in the yellow air
higher than the kingdom of the eagles
where the plane sparklesâ¦
the plane sparkled like the eyes
of the boys who, strays,
looked at it among the branches of the cherry trees... ehâ¦eh