È volato
Più in alto
Di quanto
Avrebbe voluto,
Più in alto
Di dove
Amava
Volare
Tra i suoi
Amici uccelli.
Non aveva
Le ali,
Lui non aveva
Le ali,
Ma non l’aveva
Capito,
Come Icaro
Pensava potesse
Volare lo stesso,
Anche solo
Con l’amore
Delle sue braccia.
E quelle braccia
Non l’hanno aiutato
Quando l’ultraleggero
È precipitato,
Come le ali
Di Icaro
Si era rotto
In volo
E non è bastato
Muovere le braccia
Per attutire l’urto
Con il suolo.
È rimasta sulla terra
L’impronta
Grande
Di quell’ultimo volo,
Come un saluto
Del più uccello
Tra tutti gli uomini.
(da "I Poeti del III Millennio - ed Golden Press- Genova 2007)
He flew
Above
than
He wanted,
Above
where
He loved
fly
Among his
Friends birds.
he had
The wings,
He did not
The wings,
But she had not
understood,
Like Icarus
He thought he could
Flying the same,
even just
With love
Of his arms.
And those arms
They have not helped
When the ultralight
It is precipitated,
As the wings
Icarus
He had broken
in flight
It is not enough
Move your arms
To cushion the blow
With the ground.
It remained on the ground
The imprint
great
Of that last flight,
As a greeting
Most of the bird
Among all men.
Above
than
He wanted,
Above
where
He loved
fly
Among his
Friends birds.
he had
The wings,
He did not
The wings,
But she had not
understood,
Like Icarus
He thought he could
Flying the same,
even just
With love
Of his arms.
And those arms
They have not helped
When the ultralight
It is precipitated,
As the wings
Icarus
He had broken
in flight
It is not enough
Move your arms
To cushion the blow
With the ground.
It remained on the ground
The imprint
great
Of that last flight,
As a greeting
Most of the bird
Among all men.
(from "The Poets of the Third Millennium - Ed Golden Press - Genova 2007)
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