Only a spark of fragility
can free from this dance of darkness,
from the frenzy of this world
of engines and wars,
which gets excited
and proud
of grief and tears.
 
Only fragility
can give hope
in this miserable night of the soul
where peace is but rest
(after the slaughter),
awful is death
(but only of one's mates),
 
enticing the looks of those
who with intoxicating persuasiveness
reassure us, soothe us leading us,
survivors,
along the last stretch of the road
(to our final ruin and massacre).
 

 
"I breed pigs
- the man says to me -
I have just come back home to rest.
I'll start shooting again later"-
 
"I didn't hear anything
- the woman candidly confesses, -
I take so many sleeping pills!
In spite of the bombing I have just woken up".
 
I look out of the window.
There is what is left of a soldier in a farmyard:
a foot, a sock...
a cut-off leg...
 
a sockless foot, the chest...
and a few metres farther, under a tree,
beside a worm-eaten apple,
the split head full of flies.
 
"I'll go grooming the pigs - the man says to me
with a polite, kind smile, - then, after sleeping
and eating, I'll immediately start shooting again
at those bastards living on the other side of the river".
 
"I 'll go back sleeping
- the woman says to me in a graceful way. -
But, if you wish to stay...
make yourself at home".
 
I shake my head.
This place is wrong ,
this is not my home.
The coffee the woman offered me is bad, burnt,
 
I swallow it
staring at the square building
out of the window. I can hear the survived pigs
grunting in there.
 
Thus in this pigsty
the living bite the dead.
The rights of both
are clear in this world:
 
each of them, from both sides of the river
wants to claim what suits and pleases him
and he does that, shooting, grunting,
tearing you to pieces
 
but if he can get hold of you, my friend, fanging you
as if you were a slightly rotten apple
by the baseness of this evil place...
a worm-eaten apple.
 

 
The sky was still clear when we began
unloading boots from the railway trucks, then the dark came
 
and we were unloading boots from the railway trucks.
The night fell
 
while we were unloading boots from the railway trucks.
When it was daylight
 
(and we were unloading boots from the railway trucks)
the sky became as clear as ever ,
 
and we were there, unloading boots
from the railway trucks. Spitting on the floor
 
we didn't stop unloading boots
from the railway trucks. Cursing our destiny
 
we were unloading boots from the railway trucks.
We got on shouting
 
while our arms were unloading boots
from the railway trucks. With blue fingers,
 
afraid with anger, frightened, shouting at the sky
to get some relief,
 
we got on unloading boots from the railway trucks.
Shouting always does you good!
 
Shouting is a great comfort!
it is a rough relief! And we shout like mad
 
while here, in this corner of our destiny,
we unload boots from the railway trucks.
 

 
When the last tree will have been cut down,
when the last river will have been poisoned,
when the air will be unbreathable
 
and walking will be
not only deadly dangerous but also impossible
because there will no longer be places for walking,
 
when war will be our everlasting state of things,
a mental state, when "peace" will be an subversive word
in the mouths of the most
 
dangerous and craziest individuals,
when torture will be a sweet,
persuasive form of invitation to speak,
the symbol of our superior civilization,
 
when shamelessness will become a standard sign
of evident talent for social success,
when meanness will be the measure of true value
 
and rationality will be mocked as arrogance,
when power will be in the hands
of ruthless offenders,
 
when the last meadow
will give place to the hugest megastore,
 
when there will be no more clean water
to drink
 
and the bread will be no more
bread to chew...
 
who knows?
maybe...
 
we'll finally feel
a strange taste
 
or perhaps a slothful disgust
of interior filthiness.
 

 
You would be surprised, my friend,
to know that in this world
every weapon has been banished.
 
Stupid and wicked racism
has been extirpated!
 
Justice and freedom
have prevailed at last.
 
Obliging, hypocrite obedience
is no more a virtue on this earth.
 
On this extraordinary day the rich
are dividing their properties
 
into equal parts
and, stunning the conceited prophets of disaster,
 
they share them
with the poorest among the destitute.
 
At last, my friend,
the law has become only
 
peace and solidarity
without reward.
 
Don't be so surprised, my friend!
I was only joking!
I was making fun of You.
 
You must know that the arrogance of the dishonest,
in this dark times, dominates and bewitches,
with shamelessness never seen before,
with the most sinister careerism
and the usual pride.
 
By now You would even find it difficult to understand and to speak:
power can impudently distort
even the meaning of words:
peace has become
continuous war,
torture is a part
of our code of ethics.
 
Absolutely surprising
has by now become to merely imagine
a different world:
 
elementary in its simple reasonableness,
the world that, with priceless naivety,
 
You and me, my friend,
wanted to prepare, one day,
 
with generosity,
for gentleness.
 

 
Paolo Borsoni
"NOI CHE VOLEVAMO APPRESTARE IL MONDO ALLA GENTILEZZA"
(75 poems, 175 pages, 12 euro)
published in Italy by BESA (November 2006)
copyright Paolo Borsoni
 

 
Paolo Borsoni was born in Ancona, Italy. He studied Mathematics and Sociology at the Padova University. He has published two books of poetry, "Con passo leggero" (At a light pace), "Noi che volevamo apprestare il mondo alla gentilezza" (We, the ones who wanted to prepare the world for gentleness), a collection of short stories "Breve guida per smarrirsi" (A short guide to lose yourself), two books of Sociology: "Democrazia e potere nelle società complesse. Analisi della teoria di Niklas Luhmann" (Democracy and power in complex societies. An analysis of Niklas Luhmann's theory), "Ai margini del silenzio. Ricerca di ecologia della comunicazione" (At the borders of silence. A research of ecology of communication). His essays in Mathematics and Sociology have appeared in "Sapere", "L'Elaborazione Automatica", "La Critica Sociologica", "Critica del Diritto", "Trimestre", "Lineamenti" as well as various scholarly journals and other periodicals.
Critical reviews of his books:
- Angelo Guglielmi "La disperante equazione della vita" in "L'Espresso" n.42, 22 ottobre 1998
- Stefano Lecchini "Con passo leggero" in "La Gazzetta di Parma" 3 ottobre 2004
- Antonio Ingrao "Noi che volevamo apprestare il mondo alla gentilezza" in "Piazza Liberazione" 10 dicembre 2006
 

 
mail at paoloborsoni.net
 
http://www.paoloborsoni.net/
 
- All reproductions must credit
Paolo Borsoni
"Noi che volevamo apprestare il mondo alla gentilezza"
published in Italy by BESA
as the source of the poems
 
- Any commercial usage request a prior written consent
- All copyrights remain at Paolo Borsoni
 
THANK YOU!
----------
peace - poetry
Date: Today 01:56:41
From: "Paolo Borsoni" mail at paoloborsoni.net
To: "Peace People " peace at people.it