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| it’s raining - |  |
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| my smell in the room: | ||
| bad omen | ||
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| a cold iron | translated by: | |
| this
long silence |
Massimo Bacigalupo | |
| bitter oranges | ||
| deep mysteriousness | the drop shines | |
| hidden in wells - | without falling: | |
| the stone gone yellow | she waits to become ice | |
| summer grass - | swallows’ well: | |
| locking in a test tube | the empty sky | |
| the old insects | over a dark mouth | |
| invading moon: | sea wind | |
| the white light | brings sound and fragrance | |
| hung out to dry | towards the chairs | |
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| barren lands - | the dust dresses | |
| the breath moves to meet | objects | |
| subterranean rivers | over time | |
| desert boulevard | ||
| in the dark - someone | ||
| forgot a straw-hat | ||
| bare walls | ||
| in the silence of dream | ||
| the impending trot | ||
