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