Fiori D'Arancio
Carmen Consoli
Orange Blossoms
She had an intense, piercing gaze,
well-groomed fingers and a natural sarcasm,
thin lips, a harmonious outline
of white, perfect teeth.
Few words, elegance in her manner,
a slight foreign accent and self-control.
Our meetings became regular and frequent,
in the most unusual places and times.
That intriguing man held the reins
with remarkable skill.
No small talk when he asked me:
"Would you marry me?" He was honest and confident.
I remember my wedding day,
the white silk and organza dress,
orange blossoms around the altar,
I waited for my groom with devotion.
The church packed with bored people
for the endless wait.
Behind me, yawns and comments
and not even a shadow of him.
No small talk when he asked me:
"Would you marry me?" He was honest and confident.
I remember my wedding day,
the white silk and organza dress,
no impatient groom at the altar,
just a priest in awkward embarrassment.
I remember my wedding day,
the white silk and organza dress,
no impatient groom at the altar,
just a priest in awkward embarrassment.
I remember my wedding day,
the white silk and organza dress,
no wedding march,
just my silent requiem
and immense sorrow.
