The sun has set, the light is gone,
but the wall where I’m lying is still hot
and almost burns the palms of my hands
that I keep behind my back.
I stand here very still, immobile,
I look at the turquoise of the water.
The lagoon seems quiet today, I’m quiet too.
A wave hits violently the bank, a flock of birds
suddenly flies above my head. Only then
I understand how I deluded myself.
A large cruise is crossing the basin of San
Marco, it’s one maybe two hundred meters
from me, I stare at it like an ant a family
smiles and waves at me from the very
top of the bow, I smile back, they wave more,
they don’t know that every time they wave
they stab me a little. They don’t know
that every time a wave hits the bank
they stab me a little more. I’m here,
I’m impassible, I’m lying
against this concrete wall.
I remember me walking along this same
bank twenty or so years ago, I was a child,
but I remember, it was Carnival,
the sky was painted in bright
colors and the water
the water was of the same
turquoise as it is today.
I am sending you these lines. I’m a PhD student in London and currently editing my first novel (‘Once I lived forever’). During this time, I wrote some verses about various topics. ‘Venice in D minor’ explores the long-time problem of Venice (the city where I grew up) with the cruises.