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Shalom

written by: Antonio Blunda

 

Sono bianche, fratello,

bianche le nuvole.

Bianche e sperdute dalla nostra preghiera

nell’alto dei cieli.

Sono bianche le nuvole.

come noi all’imbrunire

che ritorniamo una luce.

Una luce dimessa sul ciglio di strada,

con il canto di pace d’un santo tra i cedri.

Sono bianche le nuvole

e più sotto la strada

che ci somiglia un poco

con il vecchio odore degli ingranaggi.

Le strade si somigliano tutte

con la fredda rugiada

con l’innocenza fredda dei nostri proiettili,

dei nostri proiettili tra le colline verdi.

Sono bianche, fratello, bianche le nuvole

e vorrei chiamarti per guardarle insieme.

Shalom, shalom io ti dico.

Perché più sotto non restano che le nostre case,

e la strada, la strada che ci somiglia un poco,

d’una bellezza smarrita da ricordare.

Shalom

written by: Antonio Blunda

 

They are white, brother,

white the clouds.

White and remote from our prayer

in the highest sky.

They are white, the clouds.

like us at dusk

that return a light.

A light discharged by the side of the road,

with the song of peace of a saint among the cedars.

They are white, the clouds

and more under the road

that looks like us a little

with the old smell of gears.

The streets are all alike

with the cold dew

with the innocence of our cold bullets,

Our bullets between the green hills.

They are white, brother, white the clouds

and I call you to watch them together.

Shalom, shalom I tell you.

Because down below remains nothing but our homes,

and the road, the road that looks like us a little,

a lost beauty to remember.

Antonio Blunda

Antonio Blunda

Born in 1972, I live in Palermo (Sicily).
I'm married, with a child.
I work as a lawyer.
My great love, as my family, is poetry and narrative.
Antonio Blunda

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