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Photos of Ghosts - Premiata Forneria Marconi

River of Life

River of life
Rain was your birth
Gathered deep
Beneath the earth.
Search and seep,
Hollow stone
Issue and flow
Virgin stream
Meander free
It's a long way to the sea. 

Caves and canyons
Stark prison walls
Swirl and hurl you
From white cascading falls.
Across the plain
Sweep your course
River roll
Follow your star. 

There's a city
There's a bridge.
Ships and barges
Dark rusty hearts
Feed cranes along your banks.
Waste and poison
cloy where once men drank.
Forget the pain
From rain to rain
Journey's end
Is surely not far ...


Celebration

Celebration
You've spent a long time waiting
For a perfect yesterday,
Now fill your heart with celebration
For that's love's way.


Photos of Ghosts

Black roses laced with silver
By a broken moon.
Ten million stars
And the wispered harmonies of leaves.
We werer these. 

Beside a dried up fountain
Lie five dusty tomes
With faded pasted pictures
Of love's reverie.
Across each cover is written,
"Herein are Photos of Ghosts"
Of ghosts, of ghosts,
Of the days we ran and the days we sang.


Il Banchetto

Sire, Maesta
Riverenti come sempre siam tutti qua
Sire, Siamo Noi
Il poeta, L'assassino E Sua santita
Tutti, Fedeli Amici Tuoi. 

Prego, Amici Miei,
Lo Sapete Non So Stare Senza Di Voi
Presto, Sedetevi,
Al Banchetto Attendevamo soltanto voi
Sempre Ogni Giorno Che verra
Finche Amore E pace regnera. 

Tutti Sorridono
Solo Il popolo Non ride, ma lo si sa
Sempre Piagnucola
Non Gli va mai bene niente chissa perche,
Chissa perche perche ecc. ecc. ...


Il Banchetto
[English translation]

The Bench.
Your reverent Majesty,
We are all here.
Poets, killers and all,
Your holiness faithful
Followers and friends of yours. 

My friends, you all
Know that I cannot
be without you
Quickly, sit down on
the bench and wait
Love and peace will reign. 

Everyone smiles but the
townspeople do not laugh
they never are well, because,
perhaps, well, because...


Mr. 9'till 5

Shiny shoes, he runs to catch the train
Rockets launched if he is late again
Pushed and squeezed on the sardine machine
To his Mr. Nine till Five routine.
Filing piling on his desk all day
In and out from tray to endless tray;
Tea and biscuits secretary's legs
Luncheon daydreams over curried eggs.
Yes sir, nosir, on the squawking phone,
Five o'clock rush-hour exhausted home.
T.V., bedtime and excite the wife
Set the clock get up repeat through life.
Mr. Nine till Five ...
Down on his knees for the weekend. 

All too soon it's Sunday afternoon
Post the pools and watch the 'Box' till ten
Shuts his eyes, wakes up it's Monday again ...



Promenade the Puzzle

Lady dancing on a Tulip
Pirouetteing in the sunset
Let me be your next cigarette. 

Church bells, played by a penguin
Bearded priest who walks like chaplin,
I must fly like a swallow tonight. 

Chinese rice paper poet
Dips his paintbrush in the silence
Of the lake which mirrors the sky. 

Milkmaids waltz around the haystack
when the maestro blows his trumpet.
Bandsmen hammer at the cafe
for the gypsy's drawbridge bottle.
Choir boys pull on the zig-zag
Of the monkey's dream piano.
Fish eat stolen keys in rivers
Where the wooden legs go sailing.
Clocks join hands to dance the polka.
Sweep the carpet under the carpet
Promenade the Puzzle.