#PoetryTakeMeAway
"The Roman tavern where I have my meals is one of the places I love in Italy. Happy dogs wander in, no one knows to whom they belong; half-naked children hold a wicker flask, buying wine for their fathers. Inside, a group of rascally boys plays the accordion, while Celsa, the owner's daughter, serves them wine and bread rolls, watching them with trusting suspicion. Next to me, a little girl tosses something to the cat and says to it: 'Now that's enough, you ugly one, you who wouldn’t give anything to anyone.' The cat arches its back, fluffs its tail, and replies: meow. I eat like a king, speak to no one, and enjoy myself as if I were at the theater."
Umberto Saba, Scorciatoia n. 83. May 1945.
"The Roman tavern where I have my meals is one of the places I love in Italy. Happy dogs wander in, no one knows to whom they belong; half-naked children hold a wicker flask, buying wine for their fathers. Inside, a group of rascally boys plays the accordion, while Celsa, the owner's daughter, serves them wine and bread rolls, watching them with trusting suspicion. Next to me, a little girl tosses something to the cat and says to it: 'Now that's enough, you ugly one, you who wouldn’t give anything to anyone.' The cat arches its back, fluffs its tail, and replies: meow. I eat like a king, speak to no one, and enjoy myself as if I were at the theater."
Umberto Saba, Scorciatoia n. 83. May 1945.
CosmicJocker
2 dec 22
DeRank ™: 40,82
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