da Il tempo e il Destino di Giuseppe
Mascotti
appigli / clasps
| Many clasps, everywhere but not for despair on ground now empty of men and animals. That sheep bleating to a barred shelter, that bitch maybe carrying, so restless with plunges and turn-abouts on a plane without an outlet! In a dried-up nature where a splendid foliage, in short-spanned season turns to a lifeless clearing: only cold-stiffened birds rest little brittle clawed feet there, then off from the rigours of formerly leafy railings, now wasted chambers of nesting, of mating. Prologues of death in tottering transit? Men and animals, clasping anxiety in a copious inaccessible universe? Like sensitive instinctive beasts to hostile assaults often soccumbing, ourselves, aware of blocks and bounds, are not deprived of hope. Yet our own inner evil and of the universe can blot us just when the aim gets within clasp.
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