Viva l'Anarchia! [Long Live Anarchy!] In memory of Severino Di Giovanni and Paulino Scarfó
A vision in a tortured mind:
The spasm of a wounded dream:
The anguish of an intrusive distress.
Speak, tell me, you: You dreamed it
Do not gaze upon me, rapt in pain,
With that sad and worried look.
True! Do they lie still and degraded,
Weeping shadows in that dark night,
Pale Hamlets, limp and lost?
Our anger advances like a storm
- Which, swift, gloomy and monstrous -
Baits and challenges and overwhelms and tears apart and tramples underfoot.
Bridge every deep and tragic chasm
As massed terrors erupt into flame,
Eventually reducing the world to ruins.
It's hard to talk… In my throat
A swirling, noiseless choking…
All words strangled by a sob.
Loomed between the tightly-bound irons;
With its fearless, scornful silence
It spoke disdain for life and fetters.
Not a stray tear in the eyes.
I, breath bated at the recollection,
Can feel the drops of sweat upon my brow.
As you broke under the torment inside…
With mind spinning, darkening
And… curses… to be powerless to do anything!
Amid rumbling ghosts the day breaks;
And from the yard to those damned walls
Grim spite slips the traces and rears up…
For that inertia of mine, for that misdeed,
I try to plead, to crave forgiveness…
But with lips quivering from a broken heart.
Amid the rifles trained upon him,
A luminous giant he then becomes,
Defying the mob, the lies, the Fates;
A quivering ardour swelled his breast,
And he cried “Viva.!”' to his creed…
And the rising sun drank in his cry.
Clutch those scattered locks to your clear skies;
Did ever a more faithful lover
Come to die between your arms?
From the recesses of ghastly imprisonment:
From the secret places where pain whimpers;
From the abysses of pain and passion;
A crash stirs and fades and gasps;
Earth and heavens ooze terror
And condemnation falls upon the outrageous deed.
Whilst the heavens are marooned in its eyes…
A nightingale sings sweetly
And the dawn melts into a thin mist…
Proud amid the hills and rose boughs.
When through the fields he strode undaunted
Along the vine-scented paths;
Strew his path and heart with dreams…
And the sluggish river, laden with regrets
Turned sweetness into love sickness;
And his mouth sampled primroses,
And from cliff and rugged gorge
He sought only the echoing songs and haunts
Laid snares along his path…
Then, having wounded him in his soul,
Tossed him into the stormy waters of his fate.
For a dream of ecstatic glory…
A lonely farmhouse beyond the quiet bridges
Lilted sadly: A cradle of memories…
That imposes your infamies with laws.
And murders the Just man and the Rebel
And erects temples and thrones upon the gore.
Of thieves, dealers and cheats;
World of filthy, well-fed bellies
Replete with horrendous, dark crimes;
Would love to seize you by the throat this day;
And, rest assured … into the mire and the base clay
Would fain plunge your snout.
Dig them deep into your breast;
To watch the life ebb gradually from you…
Whilst chortling … O accursed world!