Non pensare alla delicatezza
Nel volermi offendere
Non avere la paura di svanire
Come sei arrivata
Non sentirò la tua mancanza
In quanto non mi sono abituato ad averti
Sentire un vuoto sulla mia carne
Che si svuota lentamente
Del tuo sangue infetto
Sul tuo sguardo perso
Sotto gli occhi aspetto un chiarimento
Lucido dei nostri sensi persi
Sentire un vuoto sulla mia carne
Che si svuota lentamente
Vorrei essere un regista per
Riprendere il finale di questo film
Our civilization is doomed to a short life:
its component parts are too heterogeneous.
I personally am content to see everything in the process of decay.
The bigger the bombs, the quicker it will be done.
Life is visually too hideous for one to make the attempt to preserve it.
Let it go.
Perhaps some day another form of life will come along.
Either way, it is of no consequence.
At the same time, I am still a part of life, and I am bound by this to protect myself to whatever extent I am able.
And so I am here.
Here in the island vegetation still has the upper hand, and man has to fight even to make his presence seen at all.
It is beatiful here,
the trade winds blow all year,
and I suspect that bombs are extremely unlikely to be wasted on this unfrequented side of the island,
if indeed on any part of it.
