An idea swirls in me,
silly as a rose.
There is nothing after us.
Not even the nothingness,
which would be something, at least.
(Transl. by D. Foglia)
Un’ idea mi frulla,
scema come una rosa.
Dopo di noi non c’è nulla.
Nemmeno il nulla,
che già sarebbe qualcosa.
This is a personal translation. Please contact me if you know another English translation.
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