Night dots between yesterday and today,
quiet calm wind moon cold and callous that is there.
Moon I have not turned their eyes more,
not a word and yet I know you’re still there to illuminate the path of those who is lost at night in the night and still wanders between Centocelle and the world.
Night your jacket in black you dress up all the houses and on roads where it is now quiet.
This suburb assumes magical scents between a deli and tranvetto that still waiting for forty minutes, along with the new day will start again …
Marco Vasselli © 2014