Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Milo De Angelis

The gate opened, it was eleven

The gate opened, it was eleven,
you came here every night, you went beyond the limit
of pain and rested on that same
bench, you rested and you were the arcadia
of your hands, and your being was that shadow, that
ageless place.

The gate opened, it was eleven

Il cancello si apriva, erano le undici,
venivi qui ogni sera, varcavi il limite
del dolore e riposavi su un’intatta
panchina, riposavi ed eri l’arcadia
delle tue mani, quell’essere ombra, quel
luogo senza età.
Close

The gate opened, it was eleven

The gate opened, it was eleven,
you came here every night, you went beyond the limit
of pain and rested on that same
bench, you rested and you were the arcadia
of your hands, and your being was that shadow, that
ageless place.

The gate opened, it was eleven

The gate opened, it was eleven,
you came here every night, you went beyond the limit
of pain and rested on that same
bench, you rested and you were the arcadia
of your hands, and your being was that shadow, that
ageless place.
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Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
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Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
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