I
a blind wall,
a back door,
upstairs, open, three windows.
house packed. emptied, behind and after.
jutting out upon the sidewalk, one step.
a door ajar unto a corridor,
muted in between loud-ringing rooms.
house packed. emptied, behind and after.
upstairs the three windows their curtains swollen
with an obstinate breath of wind slowly and from afar blown
reminiscing the feverish scent of young wheat fields.
house, emptied, packed; behind and after.
II
just now,
opening up in the heart of the great fields to infinity,
to the fresh sensation of it’s young wheat,
to it’s warm breeze.
yes that one, that one which, always on alert and on watch,
from the first morning till the close of day,
disperses all through the air unconditionally, unabatedly, without remorse,
it’s rippling chant and it’s dancing breath. then blows away.
you see,
against so many houses with walls of echo,
carried from each side now returns to me:
exhalations that, since the great fields,
have transformed into those of every passerby;
diffuse rhythms latching on to the window sills.
from now on,
now on every daybreak, my whole home is uninhabited.
III
at each place, here and there as always
when a man sets his foot down, his hand on,
and despite the fact that one day he would want to escape,
at each and every place and time in such a way
will leave an imprint. then a patina.
alleys of motives, boulevards of intentions.
the address where one day he will have lodged.
at this spot, at this same corner just as many times,
walking alongside the front, just as anyone,
evening or morning going on his way without ever looking up,
ever lifting his feet; with his shoulder this man
brushes past the walls, and at the windows sills
trades already for the memory of sweats odors of memories.
the address where one day soon he will go lodge.
every time here and there, from whichever place
a man comes to pack up and go, and turn away,
with a heart so heavy coming to wish to flee running;
at this time as at all those times before him,
passes to the next one an address, however worn, always incomplete,
on some still unexplored alleys, from some congested boulevards,
an address where to lodge for a time.
