In My Village
by Alessio Zanelli
In my village
men no longer have
lips to smile,
just to roar with laughter;
women no longer have
eyes to weep,
just to swell with unshed tears.
In my village
boys don’t know what to make
of streets, nights, books and girls;
girls don’t love
to talk, play, dream and be loved.
In my village
three thousand trucks each day
overdose the air with tar particulate;
the wind rarely blows,
the snow deserts.
In my village
nothing’s realized anymore,
not the days, not the sky, not the people;
even the fog appears to be gone,
along with spring, fall and babies.
Life splashes about like a tadpole
in an ever-smaller puddle.
Apparsa per la prima volta sulla rivista Main Street Rag (USA, 2005); inclusa nella raccolta Straight Astray (Troubador Publishing, Regno Unito, 2005).
