Silvia Accorrà

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Books

Città non nostre
Edizioni Libreria Croce, 2007


(from Permango)
One thing a day
Worth living for
A fire wound on my heart prevents
Anyone from loving me
But because of that only wound
I might be adored.


Summer
But I have to tell you how happy I have been
Along Boccea boulevard among the brushwood
Aside from a quite wide roadway
Descending and ascending , hunting
Urban Desert That's how they say
Saturday afternoon they say as well
I want to tell you that it's unreached
That nostalgia-matching happiness
I feel now
That I am far and tyre dealers' signs
Make a yearning mirage
I want you to feel the absurd delight
Of barely touched polished handrails
Of long distance terraces
And ours,
and my being a prey if you wish
and sudden sleep
and all that you might ask
but you do not.

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