Nei giardini che nessuno sa [English translation]

In The Garden That Nobody Knows

You feel that rough skin.

A great cold within the soul

Makes it difficult for even a tear

To fall down

Too many waits around (lit: behind) the corner.

Joys that do not belong to you.

This irreconcilable time

Plays against you

Here is how it ends then.

Glued (lit: nailed) to a window we

Melancholic spectators

Of impossible happiness

Many trips postponed and already

Empty suitcases from an eternity.

That pain that you do not know what it is

Only [that] it will never leave you, oh never!

That malaise is a refuge.

Too much haste in your growing old.

Miracles are not made anymore

Now, not anymore now.

Not paying attention to those dolls.

Not touching those pills.

That nun has a beautiful character.

She knows what to do with souls.

I would give you my eyes

In order to see that which you do not see.

The energy, the joy

In order to elicit smiles from you again

To say to you “Yes”, always “Yes”

And to succeed in making you fly

Wherever you want, wherever you know

Without that weight on your heart anymore

To hide the clouds from you

And that winter that makes you ill.

To heal your wounds and then

Some more teeth in order to eat

And then to see you laughing.

And then to see you running again.

Neglectful is the one who carelessly

Forgets a flower one Sunday

And then silence (lit: silences)…

And then silence

In the garden that nobody knows

The futility exudes.

There is respect and great cleanliness.

It is almost craziness

You do not know how beautiful it is to hug you

To meet each other here to protect you

And to dress you and to comb your hair, yes

And to whisper to you not to give up

In the garden that nobody knows.

How much life plods through here?

Only minor ailments, anaemias.

We are nothing without fantasies

Hold them, help them.

I beg you not to allow them to fall.

Fragile exiles.

Do not deny them a little of your love

Stars that now keep silent

But will give feeling to that sky.

Men do not shine

If they are not also stars themselves

Hands that now tremble

Because the wind blows stronger.

Do not let them now, no

That death does not catch them unawares

We are the artless

In that though having, sometimes we do not give.

Neglectful is the one who carelessly

Forgets a flower one Sunday

And then silence…

And then silence…

Silence