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Gedicht

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 . . .”
Flavio  Santi

Flavio Santi

(Italië, 1973)

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“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 . . .”

“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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