Roberto Amato

1953 / Viareggio

Popular Poems

The pigeons listen to us converse.
This past night I found myself drowning in quicksand
The pigeons on this obscure meadow are completely black
You may say that between me and you
. . . And yet
Yes
I don't want anyone to accompany me beyond the bridge
So very little time
The infinite is like this
I'd like to tell your husband
The city is designed very well.
There are goats up there
The water is as green as an infusion
We happened to enter unfamiliar places