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Tu unica, tu viva, tu acqua
e aria del mio vivere
e veemente complice di morte
tu mio pugno e stendardo
contro le scure procedure della sorte;
tu mio grano, mio grembo, mio sonno,
fuoco d’inverno che sventi l’obliqua
nube di notte dove abita l’Orsa;
tu unica e viva, tu canto
di grave organo e grido
di lenta carne e fiore e cibo, mia roccia
di paragone e tiepida
tana, mia donna, mia donna, tu unica,
tu viva…

Gesualdo Bufalino

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This entry was published on June 6, 2015 at 10:25 pm and is filed under Gesualdo Bufalino. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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