Do not bring flowers to my funeral.
Darkness cannot hurt memories.
When you turn, the roses
you severed for me
take the color of the shadow
and they pose blind in the ossuary of the poor’s,
in the corner full of sacks with no space
to nail anything to the wall.
There is no space anymore for the grave
where my dress descend at dusk.
I sewed mine in advance
and its lace on the back sweeps the floor,
in case a halo should stay,
or the wall will loose some of its sea salt.
Do not bring flowers on my grave.
I have collected many
on the train of my dress today.
Time is this.
It has been enough to pass by
Translation by Pietro Federico