The Silence

The silence sitting in the room

Anxiously waits for your voice.

Each minute multiplies,

Quickly replicating into hours.

The silence sitting in the room

Can no longer remain seated.

It stirs, but no one sees,

Like a ventriloquist doubling the voice.

The light enters through the window,

From the spectrum of light beams.

Ungratefully, they do not form

Your image, and you do not come.

Perhaps the silence hopes

The twilight will be more generous,

And there, at the light’s farewell,

The night might bring you,

Just as Eros came to Psyche!

The silence waits, waits, waits!

By Zito Camillo