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From Hollyhock us is a flower

LUCANIA

I know him

this rustling reeds

on arid slopes

disputed by the landslide

these rocks and thin

where the winds and fogs

damage Meeting silences

burdens evening

step on the tired mules.

E 'little water flowing

and the valleys are dry

split, clay.

Hence the herds migrate

the late autumn

the plain of marine

dipping steps in the swamps.

Hence increased malaria

for small stations on Basento

bleak sign of oleander.

with us is a hollyhock flower

that trembles with the basil

on rotten windows

in a vase of faded terracotta

and rosemary growing in the meadows

on the slopes of the streets

holes next to the moles.

Here rests the hawk and the owl

marks our death.

Here the world is far,

but there is a smell of earth and acacia

and the bread tastes like wheat.

Mario Trufelli