Old Grief

by Leonardo Sinisgalli

The old cry easily.
In broad daylight,
sitting in a secret part of the empty house,
they burst into tears,
surprised by infinite despair.
They life a sliver of pear
to their parched lips, the flesh
of a fig sun-baked on root files.
Even a sip of water can cool a crisis,
even this visit by a snail.


Share via
Copy link
Powered by Social Snap