Placido Felsina,
dell'uggiosa race,
holy god such as weirs and push,
god tired as you cry and scream, look
,
amazed
not think for the love of the stars that never will be all yours,
not think for the love of giiovinezza lost, because she never
return,
will never turn the stones and the leaves dance.
Look how bright and vivid,
feel like singing high and imposing,
what is it?
hate
or simple surrender to love not to live, sleep
the joy that brings you the instant before you shut your eyes?
jumps and turns, weirs
drunk you get up again and then ask again, because nothing can
sated altogether, perhaps a flight
epic and infinity,
but nothing that is not only you, only that image
with whom you love even billions of times,
until the time is not wasted and does not fade. As long as the cock cominzia
not to sing until
that heart does not rot in a few words,
that not even care so they would know this far, then
not speak for God ever,
or simply for love of you ...
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