Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Roberto Amato

THERE ARE GOATS UP THERE

There are goats up there  
as always in place of the doves. 
There are noises that keep the world awake.
There I am and I’m moving
I’m spinning like a mill
and I am tired of being tired
and of saying it to every single thing I encounter.

My mother can’t see me.
My father would like to crop my hair randomly
because as a young man he wanted to be a barber.
I too
wanted to be a barber
but I never told anyone.
There 
it was the silence that ruined my life
and also that of others.
It was the silence that ruined all our lives.

And now?
Now that they are all dead we’ll have to assign each of them his own dialogue.

THERE ARE GOATS UP THERE

Ci sono capre lassù
come sempre al posto delle colombe.
Ci sono rumori che tengono il mondo sveglio.
Ci sono io che mi muovo
che giro come un mulino
e sono stanco di essere stanco
e di dirlo a tutte le cose che incontro.
 
Mia madre non mi vede.
Mio padre vorrebbe tagliarmi i capelli un po’ a caso
perché da giovane voleva fare il barbiere.
Anch’io
volevo fare il barbiere
però non l’ho mai detto a nessuno.
Ecco
è stato il silenzio a rovinare la mia vita
e anche quella degli altri.
È stato il silenzio a rovinare tutte le vite.
 
E ora?
Ora che tutti sono morti bisognerà assegnare a ciascuno il suo dialogo.
Close

THERE ARE GOATS UP THERE

There are goats up there  
as always in place of the doves. 
There are noises that keep the world awake.
There I am and I’m moving
I’m spinning like a mill
and I am tired of being tired
and of saying it to every single thing I encounter.

My mother can’t see me.
My father would like to crop my hair randomly
because as a young man he wanted to be a barber.
I too
wanted to be a barber
but I never told anyone.
There 
it was the silence that ruined my life
and also that of others.
It was the silence that ruined all our lives.

And now?
Now that they are all dead we’ll have to assign each of them his own dialogue.

THERE ARE GOATS UP THERE

There are goats up there  
as always in place of the doves. 
There are noises that keep the world awake.
There I am and I’m moving
I’m spinning like a mill
and I am tired of being tired
and of saying it to every single thing I encounter.

My mother can’t see me.
My father would like to crop my hair randomly
because as a young man he wanted to be a barber.
I too
wanted to be a barber
but I never told anyone.
There 
it was the silence that ruined my life
and also that of others.
It was the silence that ruined all our lives.

And now?
Now that they are all dead we’ll have to assign each of them his own dialogue.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère