*
or in the books I loved to read in school.
But then I reconsider, and realize
it would be a sin for me to tell you a lie:
indeed, I did sail once upon that ship,
and I did come ashore upon this land,
and now three quarters of my life are gone.
In every letter that I wrote to you
and never mailed, how many times it was
in confidence I told you how I spend
the hours of my day upon this shore.
Well then, I’ll tell you what I said once more.
I do my work like everybody else,
but other people go to sleep content;
instead, I ask myself these selfsame questions:
“Why was I born? why did I ever leave?
why didn’t I stay behind with all the others
on that beautiful Mountain in full bloom?”
My dear Gargano, there is no sleep for me.
I think about your teeming, glorious stars,
and to my eyes they all appear to be
in the shape of an ocean liner filled
with a throng of poor emigrants like me...