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PoemsPRIVATE Writers

Marco Giovenale | August is the worst month to die

August is the worst
month to die.

People do not listen to
trivial whispers nor
to shooting guns. Too much tv,
too many home-made movies
in a webcam lifetime
according to the standards.
The ambulance is busy
running to fires full of poor
flesh, meat, late at night, while
one thinks: to scratch is in vain.
At dawntime in downtown
a bumping milky nerd
will find the stains, out of the door
and the radiance of things grown up
in daylight, like anything else on

Agosto è il peggiore dei mesi per morire. / La gente non sente i sussurri deboli né le pistole che sparano. Troppa tv, troppi film fatti in casa, nel tempo di vita di una webcam, secondo gli standard. L’ambulanza è indaffarata a correre verso fuochi pieni di povera carne, a tarda notte, mentre si pensa: raspare è invano. All’alba in periferia un saltellante pivello lattescente scoprirà le macchie, fuori della porta, e il raggiare delle cose cresciute alla luce del giorno, come qualsiasi altra cosa sulla Terra.

(From PRIVATE 37 – an Ecological Question, p. 58-59)

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