martedì 14 agosto 2012

Summer is coming

Summer is coming
The great vastland of sand
The silent scream of the sun
That deprives us of our strenght
When the seagulls cry the sea becomes red
Swarms of scum, ignorant pigs
Bounded to be slaughtered on the altars of judas
Killing days, the bearers of malicious heat
Bringing us to the ride of fire
Bringing us to the silence of empty cities
The bereavement of abandon, empty buildings
The laughter of the invisible demon
Whispering in the air,
The smell of roasted roads follows us everywhere
While our skin weeps under the strike of the sun,
While its great mouth of fire shouts its judgement:
"Your corpse shall be a dry bag of bones,
Your grave shall be the ruins of the suburd"
Left to rot, wandering emptiness
Left in the pit, crumbling will
Waiting for the kite, howling in numbness
Wailing endless days,
In dry pools the reflect of sleep, never to come
The bare loneliness of the city
The sensation of drowing in the melting air
Killing days, the bearers of malicious heat
Stalking days, the true face of solitude



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Ovvero, quando uno odia l'estate. La scrissi all'inizio di questa magnifica stagione , ma la terminai pochi giorni addietro. Godi popolo. [cit.]

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