Journal of Italian Translation - Brooklyn College - Academic Home ...

Charles Sant’Elia / Luciano Somma
and there is no medicine
that can heal them, suddenly.
And every day it is the same rigmarole
The same “pitter patter” that wearies the heart
the spring freezes all about it
but the air smells good, could it be love?
IT IS NOT A FLASH IN THE PAN
It’s night, this Naples dreams
of children with merrier faces
singing them a lullaby
of all a story of yesterday.
It’s part of Europe and the year two thousand
has already thrown open wide its door
I wish the wires of this marionette of luck would break.
City that is not just
a corner of thieves and prostitutes
that lives a beggarly life
hard-pressed for a bite of bread.
It is a world full of hope
now it is building tomorrow
because the universe all together
helps it with the strength of its hands
that dry the weeping of the children
raised in the mouth of an alley
waking up without fears
with the sun, a friendly sun.
A brilliant and sparkling friend
That lights up these alleyways, dazzles,
will this be the winning card
or will it be a flash in the pan?
A flash that burns but wakes
this great city, a column,
that is made of steel, not stone
that is life, that is light, it doesn’t dream!
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