Snow on the Ticino river
December 23 2001
Bereguardo, near the Bridge of Boats (a bridge made of juxtaposed boats)

Slight fog. The water is flowing silently.
Peace. Chill. Absence.
The river runs perennially, traveling, leaving an icy scent in my
heart.

When the snow falls on the river, my heart  hibernates.
It takes shelter in a corner all covered with moss. It sleeps.
Then, my migrant soul flies south, back home,
while my id sits on the river bank, watching me sleep.


Di Fiore, 2002