Of water and breath
Of scattered footsteps
Of mouthfuls of wind
Of slowness
Of uncertain movement
Of precise words we live
Of great theater
Of obscure songs
Of quick witticisms we move forward
Of how to do
Of how to say
Of how to make sense
Of highs
Of lows
Heartbeats
Phases of the moon
And rhythms of the earth
Of intelligence
Of intermittence
We live of dances
Of social dancing
Of a promise
Of a different face
Of mediocre encounters
Of beauties
Of burning scents
Of accidents
Rolling we turn, we dance
We live, we celebrate
That, this
We stomp hard with our feet
In the dance
And we miss a step
We live of fortunes told
And of traveling
And we walk tired
It's work
It's opposition
It's corruption
We live of slow construction
And of time that nails us
And of devils at our rear
Of tired hips
Of desired fires
We live of bread
Of hope to drink
A good wine for summer
Rolling we live
Of light conversations
Choruses
Of night masks
Singing and unsinging
And down with prohibitions
And oils on the skin
And smiles of ghosts
And photographed ghosts
And down with announcing bells
We live of fixed gazes
Of striking answers
Of letters sent
That we await at the top of the mystery
Of being so alone.
Of this we live
And of so much more
That we chase like dogs
Breathing through our noses
To end up instead
Still smiling, still barking
Of a random pain.
Discanto - Ivano Fossati