Santo Cacopardi

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: The Lowest Country

you await the night –

your blood boils slowly bubbling

in the sun –,

creeping your teeth laugh

sharp and white –,

playing glides your walk –

playing safely

your body hangs against the wall

all day in shadow –

deep in cold pupils

a child cries despairingly

forgotten –,

tired till death –

your soul you have forgotten

what to do with

because of the sun’s strong colours –

you await the night

to live –

in the sunlight you smile

like a cloudless sky –

in the great freedom of the night,

where the cats love each other,

you play

serious like boys

without rest –