Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Flavio Santi

“But what kind of Italy was it?”

“But what kind of Italy was it?”
“Pasolini was about to die, Mina sung Sei grande grande
grande
, magnets were being charged with negative
storms, the Christian-Democrat Party was about to compromise
our pants were belled
and we were used
to one another
like a dog to its master.
People continued to drop dead
in your face on a casual  chess-board”
“I understand . . .”

“But what kind of Italy was it?”

“Ma che Italia era?”
“Pasolini stava per morire, Mina cantava Sei grande grande
grande
, le calamite si caricavano di tempeste
negative, la DC andava a compromettersi
i pantaloni scendevano a zampa
e noi ci eravamo abituati
l’uno all’altro
come cane a padrone.
La gente continuava a creparti
in faccia su una casuale scacchiera”
“Capisco . . .”
Close

“But what kind of Italy was it?”

“But what kind of Italy was it?”
“Pasolini was about to die, Mina sung Sei grande grande
grande
, magnets were being charged with negative
storms, the Christian-Democrat Party was about to compromise
our pants were belled
and we were used
to one another
like a dog to its master.
People continued to drop dead
in your face on a casual  chess-board”
“I understand . . .”

“But what kind of Italy was it?”

“But what kind of Italy was it?”
“Pasolini was about to die, Mina sung Sei grande grande
grande
, magnets were being charged with negative
storms, the Christian-Democrat Party was about to compromise
our pants were belled
and we were used
to one another
like a dog to its master.
People continued to drop dead
in your face on a casual  chess-board”
“I understand . . .”
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