by these grey and forgotten suburbs of the world
new generations belong to something else
yet it seems less depth
and little or nothing left from this fragile and ephemeral present sold as infinite time
I belong to the generation that still has memories of copper and rust
of tears and sun
through summers
that seemed ages
during which you achieved not much beside chasing lizards
searching fruit on trees
and brusies on your knees,
yet after that you felt great and grown
anythig else is a gift
I belong to that generation of water and mud
which is more than enough
Marco Bo
new generations belong to something else
yet it seems less depth
and little or nothing left from this fragile and ephemeral present sold as infinite time
I belong to the generation that still has memories of copper and rust
of tears and sun
through summers
that seemed ages
during which you achieved not much beside chasing lizards
searching fruit on trees
and brusies on your knees,
yet after that you felt great and grown
anythig else is a gift
I belong to that generation of water and mud
which is more than enough
Marco Bo
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