Meeting Benches World art in all forms
ALLEY
To me sometimes call your voice, and I know that skies and waters, to me they wake up in a network of sun that unravels, on your walls that were at night, a swinging lamp, the workshops late, full of wind and sadness. Another time: a frame beating in the courtyard, and you could hear the night crying, of puppies and children. Alley: a cross of houses, which are called up, and do not know who is afraid of being alone in the dark.
(Salvatore Quasimodo)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Night-Fountain-Selected-Translations/dp/1904614051
