It may really be true
that in my heart
feeling is sweet
and desirous
of everlasting quiet
I go on looking
for peace and love
but will my rose be able
to flower one day?
Will it be able to keep
without withering
and dying wounded
under a mantle of snow?

2.1.'15

Sitting
I wait every day
for you to pass by.
I wait for your eyes
to give me a smile
hoping that sooner or later
you will miss mine.
I wait for that moment
to become our moment,
waiting for a moment
to change my life.
Stop here
to offer me a hope,
look at me
without fear of meeting me,
listen to me
leaving a gleam of light
in the dark of the day.
I'd like to tell you
that sometimes
among the stones
a flower appears.

25.1.'12

It's waking up
in the morning
and keeping on
dreaming,
it's living together
even being far away,
it's smelling
the same scent
among  a thousand of scents,
it's hoping
that the time
will not hurry up
to fly,
it's feeling ourselves different
without being changed,
it's realizing
that we are smiling
without having wanted it.
Love is
a ray of sun
trapped
in the heart.

26.2.'10

I never want
to take off my eyes from you
and I will make a drawing of you
with the heart
every time I want to see you,
I will caress you
with the fantasy
when the desire
tears my spirit
and I will shout in silence
for not being able to  hug you.
I will imagine your scent,
feeling ravished by passion,
I will lean the head on your body
to fill myself with you
and to be full of you
and I'll wait for your kiss
to keep it secret
in the hall of the treasures.

30.4.'14

A flower
is for saying thank you
if words
are not enough,
is for saying I love you
if you don't find
the courage,
is for apologizing
because you wouldn't want
to hurt anymore,
is for feeling closer
even if near
is already far,
is for saying goodbye
when parting
is just a game.
A flower
is for saying everything
when it's more beautiful
saying nothing.

23.2.'09

At sunrise
the girls
singing go
through the rows
full of grapes
and sourish scent,
which imbues the nostrils.
Up and down
along the long paths,
between a chat
and a mockery,
between a story
and a laughter,
between a little weep
and a joke,
the ticking of the scissors
by way of an orchestra
resounds.
Only at twilight,
with the agile hands tired,
with the neat clothes *****,
they get ready
to rest,
the clamour
dies away,
the night
falls,
the countryside
sleeps.

22.12.'09

I asked the wind
to lend me the wings
to flee away,
the cold
to strew me with ice
not to stand up anymore.
I asked the sea
to drown me,
the fire
to burn me.
I asked the volcano
for the lava
to let myself turn into a stone
and the earth
for the mud
to let myself sink.
Everyone
gave me a night
because after the night
the sun always rises.

18.1.'13