Nel Letto Di Ousman
Ettore Giuradei & Malacompagine
In Ousman's Bed
It was a piece of ice dressed in black
breathing the dust of dream sheets
it didn't cry dry, its eyes widened
destroyed, alone, in the endless empty sea.
Here it asks someone for a piece of peace
a free anchor, a fast horse
two light wings, some roots
a real island maybe a beautiful hope
And here nearby a door opens
war enters fast on its own
you close it tired for the third time
and nail your hands to the cross
because you know, that some help won't be enough
because you're the son of those who don't want you
who talk about saints and distant things
you need kisses and few words
and a strong hand that will save you
No one begs, it closes in on itself
thinks about life wonders if it's fair
remembers an apple a dream fulfilled
it's a true story that sweetens death
but it dreams very little, it hugs its legs
its eyes close it's there still in a smile
it pants and laughs trembles and understands
that the door closes the path is over
And here nearby a door opens
war enters fast on its own
you close it tired for the third time
and nail your hands to the cross
because you know, that some help won't be enough
because you're the son of those who don't want you
who talk about saints and distant things
you need kisses and few words
and a strong hand that will save you
