Dawn. It was here in the great still villa that I
heard as a child so many fables and stories,
or serenades by the window bars in the breeze,
courting some girl who was dazzling, simple, and shy.
The constellations revolve in the brilliant sky,
and a few soft crimson lights argue in the East.
All at once, an earthquake brings people to their knees.
They pray half-naked in courtyards and streets, and cry:
"Dear God! Immortal Saints! Save us from being damned!"
Houses crumble. The earthquake shakes again and again.
The apocalypse pours from an invisible hand.
There's not the slightest breath of wind in this leaden
air, and one could say d**h pa**ed over this land
under the indifferent gaze of our heaven.