una lettera al sole
Remember the time when I took a walk on the beaches of Ipanema?
You were there; right there. Glowing in your flamboyance.
The sand was so hot that the hawkers who were selling
Caipirinhas were limping and dancing and hopping
to keep them afloat from the blasting heat underneath.
Remember the occasion when M was on the streets of Napoli?
Country folks were drying tomatoes and anchovies on the veranda,
and the smell of the freshly baked pizza
wafted through the piazza and collided with
the nasal receptors of many a Neapolitan.
You possess the glory that make many a heartless soul yearn for.
But then why do you torment the obedient beings in the North ?
You refuse to come out.
You go on a perennial strike.
All we see is a hint of you through the morning blue sky at 6 am.
How long would you ill-treat us?
Would you care to shed some of your radiance in this
part of your world too?
Your insatiable hunger is unwelcome
in faraway places, such as Arabia and India.
Have mercy on those in the North.
They are polite people. They will not plead you.
You have to come and show them your face.
They will welcome you like you have never felt before.
Please come out and show what you are and what you are capable of…
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