The red stripe, black suit, a man of faith but not of the clergy;
his siren, gun leveled, came and the night we were denied. It was good
eve of Christmas, I slept in my own rags,
in front of Faber to remember, light sleep, dreaming of travel.
Travels in the sky, because I am Babu, wore sweet pe 'kids
and the chimneys had to go ... We were close, very close;
the holy black with the siren began to scream, then it dissolved.
threw my bag, took the canvas soon became the dawn, all was darkness.
I slowly, slowly climbed up there, behind the giant column;
my blanket, which now was not there, it was so cold the Madonna. The
Christmas, the lights on, soon recovered to rave;
high fever that defended me, sounds confusing, so much hunger.
was the night of the first martyr, the one that soon followed Jesus,
said: Stephen, I'll come by. I averted my eyes, was gone.
The next night, a thousand lights, I chose a single star above,
smiled and asked, let me go, I want to fly into the blue sky.
descended When, after three days, waiting for the siren,
vigilant and saints, curious about, dear friends and Maria Teresa. Last
Carlo with the wound, without words I hugged him,
I realized that I was not at that point in life, loosened the hug, then turned.
He left a round of applause from the crowd and a friend shouted louder
you remember all of us, only now, after death!
is a ballad in the air rose, it was Fabrizio, who now sounded;
Jones reached on the hill, under the party continued.
Babu Raja Rhadka, homeless. Genoa in December 2008. Republic , photos, THE XIX CENTURY
Carlo Giuliani, my boy. Genoa, July 20, 2001. Wikipedia
0 comments:
Post a Comment