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A Madman

You try to have a world in your heart
and can not express it with words,
and the light of the day divides the square
between a village laughing and you, you idiot, that passes by,
and not even the night leaves you alone:
the others dream themselves and you dream of them.
 
And yes, even you would go to search
the safe words to let them hear you:
half an hour is just needed to impress a history book,
I tried to learn the Treccani from memory,
and after 'pig', 'Mayakovsky', 'misdeed',
others continued to read me 'madman'.
 
And without knowing who I should thank for my life
in a mental hospital I have returned it:
I sleep here on the hill reluctantly
yet now there is light in my thoughts,
here in the twilight hour I invent words
but regret a light, the light of the sun.
 
My bones still give to life:
still give her the flowery grass.
But life has remained in the words on the sly
of those who have lost the idiot and is crying for him on the hill;
of those who still whisper with the same irony
"A merciful death tore him from madness."
 
Versuri originale

Un matto (dietro ogni scemo c’è un villaggio)

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