Aprile è il mese più crudele, generando Lillà dalla terra morta, mischiando Memoria e desiderio, eccitando Spente radici con pioggia di primavera. Thomas Stearns Eliot, da La terra desolata - A cura di Alessandro Serpieri
Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.