Where will Man go
The day men fall to the ground ?
Everywhere is hunger ;
In the streets there is but dirt
Guarding silences and wind
Where once lay them the steps of men
Where will Man go
The moment the fumes hit?
And when the war will be done ?
And the spoils nothing but ash?
Them, the spoils
That once were children’s laughters
Where will Man go
When the bombsa break in
Eyes and houses, breaths and screams?
And though I’d like to say more,
I’ll be as quick as life :
Count to ten to end and, thirty to begin
By Bruno Di Tillo
THE NEW OUTSIDER 