Luciano Erba
I live thirty metres from the ground
I live thirty metres from the ground
in a building in the suburbs
with a terrace and two lifts.
This was sky, I tell myself
crossed over centuries back
perhaps by a flight of herons
with below it all the falconry
of the Torrianis, the Erbas even
and fine horses on the margins of ponds.
This lodging of mine and other lodgings
books tenants kitchenware
this was azure, was space
place of clouds and birds.
The air’s the same: it’s the same?
to survive: to live above?
I don’t know how I feel myself connected
evening has time to become more blue
with a pale kingfisher
or, passing up above here,
with the real Baron Münchhausen.
Translated by Peter Robinson
Page(s) 148
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