In a middle-class drama

In a middle-class drama

I would like to slice on pieces my tie

And throw them on your inapprehensible person

I would like to eat

Using my hands at your table

Laughing in a natural way

I wish  I could not  hear 

Clanging my chains

When I move on slowly

You also know it

But you don’t want to  listen to them

‘cause they are your own chains too!

So we spend our lives

playing a drama

somebody else has written

just for ourselves.

Cagliari, 1975