he melancholy muses, his hand upon his chest.
a thousand miles
she replies, a thousand eyes winking lying
a thousand quiverings
she denies, a thousand quaverings
a thousands hairs
she sighs, everyone of a different color
a thousand songs
she cries, not any but not the one
a thousand sensations
she implies, by silence, not the same, sensual
a thousand touches,
she asks, slyly, is it your tongue your finger?
a thousand dies,
she contradicts, all mine, not yours, or ours!
and then she speaks, in Italian, a language so musical, it’s melancholy at its very essence.
I’m no longer of surety possessing,
Non ** più la garanzia di possedere,
is it my finger or my tongue, is it
è il mio dito o la mia lingua, vero?
that my finger became my tongue,
il mio dito è diventato la mia lingu,
all senses at attention, blurred,
tutti i sensi all'attenzione, sfocato,
the love song enactment, touch
(recitazione della canzone d'amore, tocco)