I’m lying on the ship’s skin
with the fine salt
in a wind embrace.
I am lying on metal plates
encrusted with rust and salt
that I feel one by one with the ribs
turning and rolling in sleep.
I’m lying on the Caspian Sea
that is drilled anywhere
and the abandonment
is blending with oil
to the thick smoke
the ship is entrusting to the wind.
I’m lying under the stars
in the company of 20 boys
waiting for the moon along the Steppe.
Our partner is the time
and the desert’s dream
far to the east.
Poem by Giuseppe Barbareschi
Translated by Vera Linder