Men like to build
big boxes everywhere
to go and live inside them, but not only for that.

In Volterra too, they have built
enormous buildings divided into categories,
such as prisoners, the sick, students and the elderly.

In the past, there were also buildings for young men
who wanted to become priests,
young offenders, the mentally ill, young girls
— back when they were not yet confused with boys —,
and factory workers. And so on.

But it often happens that, all of a sudden,
a category of people disappears,
or emigrates, or flees far away.

That is what happened to the young men
who wanted to become priests,
the young offenders,
the mentally ill, the young girls
— who today are confused with boys —
and the factory workers. And so,
those big boxes are left empty.

And anyone who sees them cannot help wondering
what all those big empty boxes
were ever built for.

And when there are many of them,
they make quite an impression,
and one feels tempted to fill them up again.

Mayors, political parties,
committees and architects always try to do so, too,
but they almost never succeed
because, in my opinion,
some boxes, once they have fallen apart,
are difficult to repair and bring back to life.

And so, perhaps they should be torn down
and new boxes built in their place.

Or perhaps not, because in the meantime
they have grown old, or rather, ancient,
and they too have earned
the right to remain and occupy that space
which, by now, has become partly theirs as well,

so they can whisper their stories in your ear,
defying the mayors, the political parties,
the committees, the architects,
and all the categories of people
who are no longer there.

And the people walking down the street,
asking themselves a thousand questions.