no day without a line

by Guido Monte

photo by Nicola Spacca

English translation by Alberto Antinoro & Chiara Assante

i shuffle and thumb through piles
of books (to read well them
is only for young),
then i lie down for the ỳpnos-sleep
that finally allows us to enter again
the ocean of being, for a while...
but
half asleep, with just an eye,
here a thought remains before
sleeping, among the rumors of those
that warm you in the cold of forgetfulness,
recalling you to the ancestral

source of everything,
feather-thought pensamiento-pluma
that tomorrow will harmonize me
with the brand new day and with the origins
of creation, here it is:
in the crushed labyrinth of world
stop chasing after theories,

accept the simple sound
of words coming out of chaos;
you don't need to look for words like
a collector of books, truth
is already there, in front of you,
on the balcony, in a face
or on the curbside

la verdad està en un balcòn,

en una cara o en el borde de la acera,

and “spiritus, ubi vult, spirat”

but we can see now through a glass,

an enigma "… serre maknun chun

negah dar 'aine ast"

the author thanks  Olga Milazzo, Azizollah and Shirin Pourkhorsand