- Prefacio
- de nuevo el amor
- Don Ciro
- El tio Pascual
- Feliz Navidad, Pasqual !
- mi madre que esta yendo
- La hoja de higuera
- El debut
- Mi mama Loka
- il capodanno di Mr.Pig
- Pierino Rossi
- J.Tanizaki
- Dikens
- Festa della mamma
- Estate
- la poesia di Simone Cattaneo
- Maya
- L Italia dove non c e piu eccellenza
[...]
I come nearer.
I rest my knees on the pillow.
I put the vase on the table.
I place the spoon very well
on the saucer
and with a white tablecloth
hand embroidered
I slowly pass the cup.
Then I bow so deeply
that with my fingertips and chin
I reach the floor.
Then you touch your chin
with two fingers
you caress your pointed beard
and continue so with a very slow rhythm:
"Even if you have short crooked legs"
"when you ve finished pouring the tea
you can come with me!"
"But I m afraid of death!"
First you look at the alarm clock
Then my ankle:
"What a bore!
What rashness!
You are more here than there
And you didn t even notice!
You ll see
That when you are completely here
You won t think about it anymore!"
"Well then, viva death and viva the cemetery!"
[...]And as I had placed the teabag
in the kettle
you yelled at me:é[...]