Look, the night fell on us
the cask of wine is not over yet
a shot of life again, and then
return in search of another morning.
The sunrise is reflected in our fantasy games
images that appear to us and are beyond
confused and go away, leaving only those blurry
of a corner of the tavern where we are.
Who brought me this far, at this locus amoenus
of beer overturned
of young drug addicts who have sex with prostitutes aged
with condom in hand?
Give me the lamp, the candle
want to see him there, out the window?
there is a river. Deviates a bit 'canvas
waterfront, a flower of broom has already blossomed.
Dawn then it is not so far away!
God still has an ear for those who blasphemy!
the clapper of the bell chimes already
certainly will not miss the next harvest. How not to miss Mass
who hates God, but
not finish you off the whole bottle, my friend,
in what I have dipped my pen?
And finally, be immodest,
young lover and back to love, without judgments
as the drunk drinks without regret.
Carlo Guassone
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