When the anguish
When the anguish spreads its colour inside the dark soul like revenge’s brushstroke, I feel the budding shoot of an ancient hunger becoming shy and gray and the light of tomorrow dying. And, up against me, the inanimate things that I created earlier come to die again within the breast of my intelligence eager for my shelter and my fruits, begging again for riches from a beggar.
Alda Merini
Translation by Susan Stewart |
Artwork: FreakyZi
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