🇮🇹 The hands by Roger Battiston, 02/07/2019

The hands 02/07/2019

Look into my eyes,

and then,

Look at my hands,

Tools of the trade,

Prolongations of my heart.

Scan the hands of others,

they are moved by thought,

From the dream,

From love,

that turns,

Sometimes,

in concrete action.

Hands are the flower,

Of brain architecture,

emergency response,

To move,

explain,

And when they come together,

Help to pray.

Look on hands,

And you will find the lines,

Of words never spoken again,

Never again written sweetnesses

And all the fears

the thousand frustrations,

They push their hands,

An imperceptible tremor.

You notice,

The hands,

knot,

Then they untie

And then sometimes they squeeze,

on the chest,

Or maybe to the heart,

How to make people feel,

The power of love.

You shake my hand,

And you will have a written contract,

But not on a blank sheet,

But inside that honor,

What now

A bit'

He got lost,

And it no longer has value.

Saran the same hands,

Who will break the bread,

And they will raise the wine,

Hoping for every day,

A sweeter glass,

Although always obscure,

Of my dear destiny.

Rb