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MORE LIKE RANDOM...

MORE LIKE RANDOM...

Poetry by: Camillo Sbarbaro
Translated by: Maksim Rakipaj

Haunted within myself and my world, often
I go like a sleeper among people.
Someone bumps into me, but I don't notice
and however carefully I look at everything
I don't always see what I look at.
My blood boils with any of this
condition brings me out. Every sound irritates me.
Except the sound of things I love.
Everything mundane grates on me
and necessary, all is life,
like a snail when a snail disturbs it,
like a snail inside myself I close up.

What in life is enough for others
for me it is not enough at all.
And really
another world if I didn't have this mine,
in which I hide
if beyond the misery of boredom
of the things of daily life
I wouldn't remain what I am,
I wish I wasn't!


But a strange impression
at every step he accompanies me and comforts me:
I seem to be there by chance
in this world...