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In città

All ephemeral is, and yet at once is not,
e va e viene il vento, u jvenven iż-żmien,
the same clock ticks and tocks for those who bear and rot,
siempre y nunca durmiendo, iduru mingħajr tmiem.

Le flou il est partout, no why, no who, no what,
la hawn, la hemm, la llum, la waħdi, la flimkien,
no existe el ayer, tomorrow is but a plot,
e siamo tra qua e là, u qatt ma nkunu mkien.

Così in città mi sto, no space or time to think,
donde un millón de muertos la nada van buscando,
perdus dans ses cages noires de sol a sol sin fin.

Hawn kien ix-xejn ta’ ħajti, and here the missing link:
sapere che lontano la vita in me cercando
fis-sliem bla tmiem ta’ raħli il-ħajja vera nsib.





In the city

All ephemeral is, and yet at once is not, and the wind comes and goes, and time bellows, the same clock ticks and tocks for those who bear and rot, always and never sleeping, circulating without end.

The void is all around, no why, no who, no what, nor here, nor there, nor today, nor alone, nor together, yesterday does not exist, tomorrow is but a plot, and we are between here and there, and we are never anywhere.

Thus in the city I am, no space or time to think, where a million deceased go searching for nothing, lost in their dark cages incessantly from sun to sun.

Here was the nothing of my life, and here the missing link: to know that afar, life in myself seeking, in the endless peace of my village true life I find.