If somewhere on a strange, restless night,
you stumble, walking on the edge of death.
Do not hide, do not be silent, scream, scream to me.
I will hear your voice, I will recognize it.
Perhaps, with a bullet in your chest, you lie in the ripe rye.
Be patient! Get up. Walk, and your legs will not feel the fatigue.
We will return together to where the herbs heal.
Do not die, hold back the bleeding.
If you have a horse beneath you—lead, ride, ride!
The bay horse will find the way
To those lands where living springs always flow
And your wounds will heal.
If you walk with difficulty knee-deep in mud
Or on sharp stones, barefoot in icy water
Or on dusty earth, swept by the smoky wind, scorched by the fire of bombs
Everywhere it wades, it crawls!
Here, the streams so pure beneath the snow
You will find, you cannot imagine anything more beautiful!
Here. Here are friends, flowers, and trees that belong to no one, to no one else, except to all free men.
If we want them, they will be ours.
Ours!
Where are you? Stuck
At what crossroads, crossroads of a smoky city
Perhaps you are too tired, discouraged, lost
And can't find your way back?
Don't hide, don't be silent, shout!
Francesco Ferri
