Nonno's poem - The night of iguana

calmly does the olive branch / observe the sky begin to blanch, / without a cry, without a prayer, ' with no betrayal of despair.

Sometime while light obscures the tree, / the zenith of its life will be gone, / past, forever. And from thence, / a second history will commence.

A chronicle no longer gold / of bargaining with mist and mold, / and finally the broken stem, / the plummeting to earth, and then

An intercourse not well designed / for beings of a golden kind / whose native green must arch above / the Earth's obscene, corrupting love.

And still the ripe fruit and the branch / observe the sky begin to blanch, / without a cry, without a prayer, / with no betrayal of despair .

Oh, courage! Could you not as well / select a second place to dwell? / Not only in that golden tree / but in the frightened heart of me?

Tenessee Williams

The night of iguana

Nothing human disgusts me unless its violent or dirty