The city is designed very well.
Moving about is easy even for someone like me who has no sense of direction.

We always end up at the same square: the same huge equestrian statue
the petite pigeons that scatter about like crumbs
the sun that reaches us from all sides.

You know . . .
I have never walked with a woman.
I would gladly give you my hand but you say we can't
(and surely you are right).
But
where we are heading no-one knows.

If we go straight on the city will abandon us.
Then begin the clouds and the pain makes it pour.
Begins a thick grass that hides the lanes.
Believe me we will trip on a stone and fly who knows where.
Then again we have not a single plan to keep ourselves safe.
Admit it: we haven't left ourselves the slightest possible
way out.

Translation: Matilda Colarossi