Renzo Novatore
Twilight Ballad
A Symphonic Prelude of “Dynamite”
(date of composition unknown)
This is the hour of my bleak thoughts.
My Demon sleeps.
The red Demon
of my hellish mirth
sleeps in the gloomy twilight
of this mind of mine.
I smoke…
Desperately, intensely,
I smoke. Always!
Always! Always! Always!
I would like to think, to write, to sing…
But my Demon sleeps
The red Demon
of my hellish mirth
sleeps in the gloomy twilight
of this mind of mine.
And no thoughts come…
Nor even laughter and curses!
This is the dark hour
of my black melancholy.
*
Distracted, I watch my cigarette,
slender, pale and hot
like an ailing lover.
I watch it consume itself so very slowly
like my life and my dreams
like the lives and dreams of all my brothers.
The ash falls to the ground and is dispersed. So!
The smoke floats off, dense and gray, into the air
and is dispersed as well. So.
There is nothing left for me
but a bit of yellow nicotine on my bitter lip. So.
*
My Demon sleeps.
The red Demon
of my hellish mirth
sleeps in the gloomy twilight
of this mind of mine.
I look at the sun!
I see it setting among the blond whirlpools
of a golden sea.
Golden and bloody…
But my heart is bitten.
Bitten by a cold sob
without hope or tears,
without hatred or love.
Oh, if only I could weep…
if only I could curse…
But no!
No! No! No!
*
Who?
Who has ever cause me so much harm?
Who is the malign architect of this suffering of mine?
Alas, mother… my mother…
If I still had the strength
so that at least I could curse you…
But no!
No! No! No!
And yet you—you alone!—
are the one that gave me life,
that gave me sorrow,
that brought me Harm!
But tell me:
Didn’t you believe in the joy of living?
Am I, therefore, the child of a grotesque dream?
Or am I rather the lowliest child
of common unawareness?
But then, why, oh mother,
—on that day—
didn’t you have the heroic inspiration
to bash you full belly
upon a hard rock? So!
Since I didn’t want to see
the sun
Since I didn’t want
this miserable life.
Since I suffer so much, so…
Oh, mother, are you crying?
And why?
Are feeling regret
for having created me?
Are you imaging the harm
that torments and shatters me
so terribly?
Oh, if only I had the strength
so that I could curse you…
But no!
No! No! No!
I am too cowardly!
*
The river flows and sings…
(the beautiful, peaceful, laughing river).
It flows over its fine bed
of soft sand
and its white froth
is tufted with gold.
The titanic cliff
bathes its granite flanks
in your clear waters
—oh, solitary river—
and seated at your edge I
watch the green leaves
that the wind caresses,
embroidered with shadow and light. So!
I watch. I think and remember…
But my mind is gloomy,
and all around me,
the evening weeps. Black.
I no longer love.
I no longer believe!
*
Who?
Who has ever caused me so much harm?
Women and love?
Men and friendship?
Society and its laws?
Humanity and its faith?
Maybe all of them!
Maybe none of them!
I don’t know…
I feel much too bad…
Too much! Too much! Too much!
Here… in my mind!
*
My Demon sleeps
He sleeps in the gloomy twilight
of this mind of mine.
How sad I am…
Sad and melancholy.
*
I want new friends.
Real new friends.
I need to confide
my black melancholy
(in someone).
But I have no friends
I am alone!
Alone with my MELANCHOLY
Alone with my Destiny.
Alone, so alone!
*
My Demon sleeps.
A Memory passes
through my brain.
The Memory of a dream.
I dream of youth:
“Strong, happy men
embraced, intertwined
with the naked bodies
of beautiful, joyful, happy women
celebrated and glorified
by happy, innocent children.
Then:
Flowers and sun.
Music and dance.
Stars and poetry.
Songs and love.”
*
My Demon sleeps.
Dull yellow, black
and greenish flashes
of foul reality
pass through my brain!
Flashes of the reality that is passing…
“A mixture of brutes and boors.
A mixture of hypocrisy and ignorance.
A blending of cowardice and lies.
A totality of dung and mud:
Oh, no!
No! No! No!
I suffer too much!
Too much! Too much! Too much!
*
The sun has set
(the beautiful, golden sun)
The Angels of the evening
are in their death throes…
The green leaves are cold,
laughing dead skulls…
The river (the beautiful, clear river)
is now a black serpent
fearfully stretched out
between the cliff boulders.
Gloomy, silent grave.
Gloomy, black grave.
*
My cigarette is used up…
(my cigarette as pale
and hot as an ailing lover).
The ash has dispersed
along with the smoke.
There is nothing left for me
but a bit of yellow nicotine
on my bitter lips:
like life and dreams. So!
*
I go into the gloomy twilight
of my mind
my red Demon awakens.
I feel a tiny trickle of bitter blood
flowing over my bitter lips…
I have a tragic premonition
What will happen tonight?
But… the stars
—the dear stars—
will see.
If only I could laugh
and curse once more…
But I see a sinister lamp (a fire?)
shining in the darkness of the night.
I will have to STRIKE!
I feel it…
I feel it! I feel it! I feel it!
I am a star that is turning
toward a tragic sunset.
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