It took some time to reach that shore,
there was a house and a plot of land both abandoned,
vegetation, the spring,
an old, well-balanced, bamboo boat,
hills overhanging the sea,
as much fish as you want,
love and words, glances, moments of silence,
orgasms, tranquillity.
Then they came in droves,
they erected a glowing ferris
wheel to enliven the evening,
they opened shops, added attractions,
why even the branch of a bank,
an altar, sticks of candy floss
on the lips of passers-by,
coloured balloons,
the lagoon infested with bathers,
the screaming of the young,
pedantic preachers, flashing lights,
stalls teeming with junk,
pictures hanging everywhere,
souvenirs of battles, trophies, relics for adoration.
They had an urge for apparitions
thus it was that place became another holy city.
© Copyright 2023 Mauro Giovanelli “Seventy-nine writings or thereabouts”, life, love, death and the usual… – “Settantanove scritti o giù di lì”, vita, amore, morte, i soliti discorsi… – Translation Italian-English: Philip Mc Court.