Acque - Ermal Meta

L’acqua che passa fra il fango di certi canali

Tra ratti sapienti, pneumatici e ruggine e vetri

Chissà se è la stessa lucente di sole o fanali

Che guarda oleosa passare rinchiusa in tre metri

Si può stare ore a cercare se c'è in qualche fosso

Quell’acqua bevuta di sete o che lava te stesso

O se c'è nel suo correre un segno di un suo filo rosso

Che leghi un qualcosa a qualcosa, un pensiero a un riflesso

Ma l’acqua gira e passa non sa dirmi niente

Di gent e me o di quest’aria bassa

Ottusa e indifferente cammina e corre via

Lascia una scia e non gliene frega niente

E cade su me che la prendo e la sento filtrare

Leggera, infeltrisce i vestiti, intristisce i giardini

Portandomi odore d’ozono, giocando a danzare

Proietta ricordi sfiniti di vecchi bambini

Colpendo implacabile il tetto di lunghi vagoni

Destando annoiato interesse negli occhi di un gatto

Coprendo col proprio scrosciare lo spacco dei tuoni

Che restano appesi un momento nel cielo distratto

E l’acqua passa e gira e il colore poi stinge

Cos'è che mi respinge e che m’attira?

Acqua come sudore, acqua fetida e chiara

Amara, senza gusto né colore

Ma l’acqua gira e passa e non sa dirmi niente

Di gente e me o di quest’aria bassa

Ottusa e indifferente cammina e corre via

Lascia una scia e non gliene frega niente

E mormora, urla, sussurra, ti parla, ti schianta

Evapora in nuvole cupe rigonfie di nero

E cade, rimbalza e si muta in persona od in pianta

Diventa di terra, di vento, di sangue e pensiero

Ma a volte vorresti mangiarla, sentirtici dentro

Un sasso che l’apre affonda, sparisce e non sente

Vorresti scavarla, afferarla, lo senti che è il centro

Di questo ingranaggio continuo, confuso e vivente

Acque del mondo intorno, di pozzanghere e pianto

Di me che canto al limite del giorno

Tra il buio e la paura del tempo e del destino

Freddo assassino della notte scura

Ma l’acqua gira e passa e non sa dirmi niente

Di gente e me o di quest’aria bassa

Ottusa e indifferente cammina e corre via

Lascia una scia e non gliene frega niente

The water that passes through the mud of certain canals

Between wise rats, tires and rust and glass

Who knows if it's the same bright as the sun or the headlights

That looks oily pass locked up in three meters

You can spend hours looking for if there is any ditch

That water drunk with thirst or that washes yourself

Or if there is a sign of her red thread in her running

That binds something to something, a thought to a reflection

But the water turns and passes, it can't tell me anything

Of gent and me or of this low air

Dull and indifferent she walks and runs away

Leave a trail and they don't give a damn

And it falls on me that I take it and I feel it filter

Light, it felts clothes, saddens the gardens

Bringing me the smell of ozone, playing dance

Projects worn out memories of old children

Relentlessly hitting the roof of long wagons

Arousing bored interest in a cat's eyes

Covering the crack of thunder with its own roar

Who hang in the sky for a moment distracted

And the water passes and turns and the color then fades

What is it that repels me and attracts me?

Water like sweat, fetid clear water

Bitter, without taste or color

But the water turns and passes and cannot tell me anything

Of people and me or of this low air

Dull and indifferent she walks and runs away

Leave a trail and they don't give a damn

And it murmurs, screams, whispers, talks to you, smashes you

It evaporates into dark clouds swollen with black

And it falls, bounces and changes into person or plant

It becomes of earth, wind, blood and thought

But sometimes you want to eat it, feel yourself in it

A stone that opens it sinks, disappears and does not hear

You would like to dig it, grab it, you feel it is the center

Of this continuous, confused and living cog

Waters of the world around, of puddles and tears

Of me singing on the edge of the day

Between the dark and the fear of time and destiny

Cold killer of the dark night

But the water turns and passes and cannot tell me anything

Of people and me or of this low air

Dull and indifferent she walks and runs away

Leave a trail and they don't give a damn