What about the evening

What about the evening,
when the columns of the temples were sleeping into the mountains,
and the mountains were crawling under the sea,
and the seas and oceans, iridescent spheres,
were wandering in the vastity of the space
and the space was just a word that did not produce sound?
What about we talked, then, in the evening?

[italian version]

Nuclear

Nuclear fire,
through a rusty needle,
injected into veins of burnished steel
to the cemented heart
supported by dies of hot, compressed blood,
made of pulsing light,
until a bar of graphite rods it,
interrupting, in a flash of splinters,
the mutant fusion
of the emotional cores.

Stopped the instincts,
broken the chain of rational fractures,
only remain radioactive storage bins,
abandoned to acid rain,
releasing edible isotopes
that seep under the glossy surface
of the unstable words,
feeding the basins with he liquid energy
of the transgenic consciences
cultivated with inox wheat.
Do not drink!
Do not drink this iridescent water!
It could illuminate the darkest corners
of the underground perturbations
in your mind.

[italian version]