From the Hill

by Paul Coppini

 

 

From the hill I look at the valley

There is not more one meter than green earth

Only asphalt and cement

Where I am inside

 

I want to run away but I am not able

You/they have put me a clock to the wrist

And they check my movements

The thought my mind

 

I live in this great jail

In the daytime I work, but! the evening

I return home in my rooms

Where I have closed the hopes

 

I can speak and to think

Of as it would be beautiful

This world without laws

How chains tighten you the neck

 

There is not here more solution

There is no more love among the people

It counts only the money

And he/she doesn't believe anymore by now in anything

 

I have Lord of the universe

I am me that I have lost

But! You/he/she has not been my guilt

If I/you/they are run away.

 

My thought flies in the sky

While my body is imprisoned

Of his/her body, of his/her eyes

What they close me the mind.

 

I go down from the hill

Among the asphalt and the cement

Where it seems me to suffocate

But I must accustom me.