THE MAN (OMEN IN A LEBANESE RESTAURANT)

from by Anarcocks

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lyrics

A cena, sul tardi, il teatro: uno schifo. Quasi come se
ruotando il dito sul bordo del bicchiere evaporasse
il rosso, il vino. L’afa, l’asfalto. C’era dell’aria stabile,
fissata sui cardini, umido peso, corpo su corpo, era
soffocare. Sipario di velluto: il nero del lino sudava
fino ad allentarsi il nodo alla cravatta, liberava lo sterno
di almeno due bottoni, senza volerlo aveva strappato
dal petto il pelo grigio, quaranta estati o primavere;
la scena si chiudeva, recitata male, senza un happy end.
La fame sul red carpet: dopo tre gradini, l’odore di
bruciato, aveva l’acquolina. Ma fu l’agnello, un filamento
fra canino ed incisivo. Era uscito dal locale con lo
stecchino in bocca.
_ _ _

At dinner, latish, the theater: revolting. As though
rubbing your finger around the edge of the glass, the red,
the wine evaporates. The afa, the asphalt. There was a stifling
air attached to the hinges,a wet weight, body on body, it was
to suffocate. Velvet curtain: the black of linen sweated
until it loosened the tie-knot, freed the sternum
by at least two buttons, unwittingly had pulled
the grey hair off the chest, forty summers or springs;
the scene closed, badly acted, without a happy ending.
Hunger on the red carpet: then three stairs, the smell of
burnt, mouth watering. But it was the lamb, a filament
between canine and incisor. He’d left the restaurant with a
toothpick in his mouth.

credits

from Hotel Oriente, released November 23, 2015
Lyrics by Marco Simonelli translated by Brenda Porster

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