Maria Zimotti


I ragazzi del sud

Southern youths.

Southern youths
sit down quickly,
their look lost
in sliding horizons
scent of dry grass morns,
chiming among burnt stones
and then
heavy smell of express trains
Stations, appearing
and bringing dumb stories
in the air
with not enough time to be told,
dragged away by the hiss
of the uncertain excitement
of all the old and new youths
leaving the hot southern forge
to sit laden
in new shells.
You recognize them
in other quiet
commuter trains,
for they sit quickly
mindful of childhoods spent climbing stones
to the rhythm of the seasons.