(Nat and Mirko have come out of a pub. They're walking towards a disco.)
Nat (alone again) :
Nocturnal way is empty,
Here are five youngs:
Sad and anonymous boys,
Girls are wearing black short dresses,
It looks like a funeral.
Mirko:
We've arrived, and now
Your senses will die down.
Being in hiding, I'll see everything.
Last time I'll tell you:
You've to return here
When old tarts go out
Dragging themselves as far as here.
It'll be much better.
Nat (at the gates of a disco, he's looking at two girls. A deep sound is coming out far down) :
Look at this blonde girl
Slowly swaying her round bottom,
Her jeans are low-waisted
They're too tights at the waist,
Like new Salome.
I'm hearing another music
For my and your senses,
I'm pricking up my ears
And something else too.
If Sonecka was here
One should take her away:
Now I must go away
Wherever my Sonecka stays.
(Mirko gets down alone. Nat takes another way.)
To be continued
Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nathaniel-sonja-doesn-t-live-here-anymore/
