Ragazze Dell'est

In the pale mornings still buttered with mist
giggles like coins blown in the cafes
innocent faces barely touched by tender euphoria
clear eyes twin lakes sweet bitter eyes...

I've seen them
between concrete and golden domes swept away by the wind
under awnings waiting for the sun and their tram
to cover their hearts well amidst sandals and old patterned shirts
and someone alone and drunk vomiting on the world...

I've seen them bring flowers and then run away
and try to say something in a strange Italian
I've seen them with sand hair gathered in scarves
and a new distant pain held by the hand...

I've seen them singing in the short days of an idea
elbows and friendships intertwined along a street
I've seen them holding back the tears of a spring that never came
flight of storks with wax wings...

Still, I've seen them
eagerly waiting in line in front of the ice cream parlors
when the winter-weary sky promises a bit of blue
little queens among statues of heroes and workers
slight thorns of anxiety in round white chests...

I've seen them
excited funny and sweaty for happiness
in hotels where people dance shouting joy
and drink beer and shut out the usual snow and reality
and some of them dance and dance and then dance...

I've seen them
in the evenings when the factories and streets are closed
vague smiles of anticipation on their lips
writing their fantasies on icy windows
poor beautiful women in love with love and life...
the Eastern girls...