THE GIANT WITH FEET OF CLAY

THE GIANT WITH FEET OF CLAY

Searching for your past

I would get lost in the mists of time

I want to be a prophet of it

of what your tomorrow will be,

therefore I pause, oh Civita,

to contemplate your present and

my thought is this:

“I grew up in the valley

that you, ageless, majestic queen

you dominate and for years you have defended

my games, cradled my

dreams . . . . . and I saw you

impregnable fortress, abode

divine, lair of all mine

lost hope. . . . .

But time passes quickly

and I find myself already mature

to walk through your streets

lonely, lost in the same

solitary thought or I see myself again

on hot afternoons to be

cicerone and guide of graceful people

ladies

and how many times have your walls done

echoed to the town band in which

I am a participant. . . . .”

I was there these days

to observe the slow ditches

that, one on the right and one on the left,

they flow at your feet

voraciously wearing out all yours

support almost like water,

not happy to admire you

in the few moments that pass, in

took away his every warble

a memory!

But more than time

who really wears you out

it's "bureaucracy!"

In fact, man is selfish and

fanatic he doesn't even know

its own days, it wants to be

master of your natural destiny;

unfortunately if the man (false flatterer)

on the one hand it claims, nature, alas,

on the other it abandons you. . . . .

What have they done,

or Civita?!

They knew how to turn it around

your fate and now no more

stepmother of romantic evenings, no more

long-awaited destination of your admirers

but a helpless guinea pig for many curious people

I really see you "The dying country!"

Yes, you are right, nothing is eternal

in this world, and yet I tell you:

who knows how many more generations

they will be able to admire THE GIANT WITH FEET

OF CLAY!?

 

POET

FRANCO BERLUCCA