Emanuel Carnevali

From “The Splendid Commonplace”

HALF past seven in the morning

And the sun winks at me,

Half hidden by the last house of the street.

His long fingers

Scare away these trotting little men

Who rush westward from the east to their jobs.

Laughing, the sun pursues them …

Ah, there he is!

Who?… The letter-carrier, of course!

(What do you think I got up so early for?)

You never see him run—

He is so proud

Because he’s got my happiness in that dirty bag:

He’s got a kiss from my sweetheart,

Some money for me to buy some food,

And a white, nice collar.

That’s why he’s so conceited,

That’s why he wants to show

That he doesn’t know the sun is behind him,

That the laughing sun is behind him

Pushing him along to make him bring me my happiness:

A kiss from my sweetheart,

Some money to buy some food and a clean collar,

And a letter from an editor that says:

“You’re a great poet, young man!”

Damn it! I guess he heard me raving about him:

He passed by my door and didn’t even turn around.

What shall I do, what shall I do?

Oh, never mind—tomorrow, tomorrow!