Pier Paolo Pasolini

[...]

I wanted to shout but went mute;
my religion was a perfume.
And now, humid, radiant,

it has returned to the world, still that same
unknown perfume; and here am I, lost in the act,
always successful and useless, humble

and exquisite, of liberating intact
meaning from its thousand images ...
I become once again tender as a boy

with his savage mysterious eagerness,
as in the past, and difficult
tears wet my page at the sight

in the sweetly burning sunlight
of those two boys, still so young,
quickly joyfully getting lost

in wealthy suburbs, below terraces
full of serene sea sky or the balconies
of morning or rooftops painted

gold by an already twilit sun...
The sense comes back to me of life
as it always was then, an affliction

[...]

Falk Gernegross, Young Woman with Mirrors, 2020

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