Un Paysan Heureux
I walk around the entire day
Between golden fields and edged trees
Alone, with my dear friends.
We talk a lot.
Blue sky above us
new clouds attract attention
on not happening.
Do I look into emptiness or perhaps into infinity?
Lady wind chants for me.
Maybe, you will lose the harvest?
I mull over the aroma of the past years with the sweetest anxiety.
Dusk comes heading for home
I relax my body
tired of the act of wasting time
The fruits will be harvested one day.
I enter the house,
wrapped in old faces in the beams
everyone starts to speak loudly
speak, speak and speak
I stay there
while it ferments the mind.
— Marco Rigoni