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.