Roberto Amato

1953 / Viareggio

Popular Poems

The pigeons listen to us converse.
This past night I found myself drowning in quicksand
The pigeons on this obscure meadow are completely black
You may say that between me and you
Yes
. . . And yet
I don't want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge
So very little time
The infinite is like this
I'd like to tell your husband
The city is designed very well.
I believed I was me
Yesterday I visited the house of Leopardi.
The water is as green as an infusion