Vico Tapera, tired men,
shiny breeches and collars
of the sweat of the years,
here in your belly the mules go crazy under the cut of the sun that attacks you…
But it still brightens up your evening.
That late evening of yours
suspended at moonrise,
in his stable he lay
a yellow digger who was dying,
and we heard talking,
and the mule moved its ear,
and the dogs exhausted in complaint,
and a woman was tearing her hair,
Vico Tapera abandoned
with half a door beating with the wind.

(1946)

Read by Clyde

Generated by Artificial Intelligence