A keresés eredménye

Dying between the violets

Under the sun, with the light dress
that a warm wind pressed against me
I took a deep breath with my tiny breast,
my hands ready and eyes closed, no more fear...
 
So beautiful
to give myself to love
and sleep under the sun
Dying between the violets
Dying between the violets...
 
In the mist I see you arriving
It's cold outside, you're tired and pissed,
you come into the house and I'm eating an apple
I smile at you and say: «Love, spring is tomorrow…»
 
So beautiful
to freeze this moment
a love under the sun
Dying between the violets
Dying between the violets...
 

The sinner (the art of pretending)

Tell me the most fascinating stories,
tell me of days spent with me,
of this love hanging to a lie
that still burns.
 
Tell me that the air I breathe is as thin as you
and that you'll keep falling in love like those times.
 
But it's not you,
you
who makes me laugh and cry
still.
 
It won't be you,
you're here no more,
but you can lie to me again
and make love sufficiently1.
 
It's I who don't love you,
I who don't forgive you,
masked, confused,
more disenchanted than you.
 
I am the sinner,
I will be the happiest,
embracing
every weakness.
 
Tell me a story, the most passionate,
and pretend love never faded
in front of this flaming fire
that still burns.
 
And you can caress my hair like a gust of wind
and try to blush silently like your first time.
 
But it's not you,
you're here no more.
If you want to pretend again,
it will be just as much as needed.
 
It's I who don't love you,
I who don't forgive you,
masked, confused,
but surer than you.
 
I am the sinner,
I will be the happiest,
hanging
to every tenderness.
 
In love, crestfallen,
surely more than you.
 
It is me who loves,
it is me who doesn't forgive.
Now hug me, caress me,
for this is the art of pretending.
 

• 1. Sounds just as weird in Italian, deliberately

A Bit Like Life

A bit like life
Without dreaming anymore
of existence and irony,
and sliding, sliding away
 
How do you say 'just a little more' and go to search for
That thing that always hurts a bit more,
But that within a moment brings you
to reconsider the wind?
 
And then to yell at me, who doesn't believe,
Because the confine is the only thing I don't see
 
Where do you want to fly?
You have time to think,
But meanwhile at least tell me where heaven will end
Remember to play
And to bring yourself elsewhere
I remain here to understand how to light up my heart,
How to light up my heart
 
You believe you can fly
But the illusion of joy takes your breath away even at night
Maybe try to imagine that on the back side of life
There may be a stronger image
 
And the memory won't be enough for me,
I would like to find myself in the exact condition
Of a light at the station
On an abandoned track
Where the trip never started
 
To then yell at me, who doesn't believe,
Because the horizon is the only thing I don't see
 
Where do you want to fly?
You have time to think,
But meanwhile at least tell me where heaven will end
Remember to play
And to bring yourself elsewhere
I remain here to understand how to light up my heart,
How to light up my heart
 
Give me back a night that shines instead of a sky of crows
Don't you remember when we were two bodies
united in taking blows?
We knew how to light ourselves up
Before kicking at one another
Before being at each others' necks
Even others' crosses
Just to resemble one another
 
And then yell at me, who doesn't believe,
But in this tunnel that's so dark that I don't look back,
And the end is the only thing that I don't see
 
Where do you want to fly?
You have time to think,
But meanwhile tell me at least where heaven will end
Remember to play
And to bring yourself elsewhere
I remain here to understand how to light up my heart
How to light up my heart
 

My own way

But yeah,
I'm here
telling you things that are important to me
and you
don't know
whether they're words or feelings.
 
Yet
it's not important
if some talk about incoherence
because
I'm me
my own way.
 
I did
what I wanted,
alone with myself, looking ahead.
Regrets
I've got too few of them,
there's really no need for me to recount them.
 
I've had,
I haven't had,
everything perfect, everything wrong,
yet
I'm me
my own way.
 
And, although I cried a little,
that experience did me good.
Yes, I had bitter bites
and I managed to spit them out.
 
I'm me
and my own way
I never change!
 
But yeah
I'm here
telling you things written by someone else,
but
to give them to you
I translate them and take them inside.
 
So,
not to brag,
no one can tell me off
because
I'm me
my own way.
 
In front of me there are seats,
full or empty, I don't know.
Inside me my own life,
deserted or full, I said no.
 
But I'm me
and my own way
I never change!
 
If the audience says yes,
I thank God
for being me
my own way.
 
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