Drought Poem by Gianfranco Aurilio
Drought
I ate the water
that tasted of stone
melted by the ice
of the human heart.
There was a little boy
beside me
in that well of mud
and he had never drunk
clean water.
He said to me:
"This water is magic
because it comes down
white from the sky
and it comes up
brown from the earth.
My grandfather told me."
I smiled at him
but in the water
that I was drinking
a tear fell.
9.11.'15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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7/29/2025 11:39:12 AM # 1.0.0
