Read and listen to the poem Color of rain and iron

My dear friends, these days of party they also carry a slight veil of melancholy; so many things could be better, so many chairs are empty... and so tonight I'm reading you a nice one poetry of a great poet, Salvatore Quasimodo, which talks about this.

He is much better than me at explaining how it feels when you feel that lack in your heart and mind, you feel that something is not going as it should.

Read with me

You said: death, silence, solitude;
come love, vita. Parole
of our temporary images.
And the wind has risen lightly every morning
and the weather the color of rain and iron
passed over the stones,
on our closed hum of cursed.
The truth is still far away.
And tell me, broken man on the cross,
and you with your hands thick with blood,
how will I answer those who ask?
Now, now: first of all silence
enter the eyes, before other wind
salt and more rust flourish.

color of rain and iron — Color of rain and iron

Listen to the poem

Bedtime stories

Color of rain and iron

00:00 / 1:47

Yes, I know, this evening I saddened you a little, but our guardian angels will take care of cheering us up and making us live a magical night full of beautiful dreams.

Io ed Eugene vi auguriamo una dolce notte

Francesca