(Nat and Mirko have come out of a pub. They're walking towards a disco.) <br /> <br />Nat (alone again) : <br />Nocturnal way is empty, <br />Here are five youngs: <br />Sad and anonymous boys, <br />Girls are wearing black short dresses, <br />It looks like a funeral. <br /> <br />Mirko: <br />We've arrived, and now <br />Your senses will die down. <br />Being in hiding, I'll see everything. <br />Last time I'll tell you: <br />You've to return here <br />When old tarts go out <br />Dragging themselves as far as here. <br />It'll be much better. <br /> <br />Nat (at the gates of a disco, he's looking at two girls. A deep sound is coming out far down) : <br />Look at this blonde girl <br />Slowly swaying her round bottom, <br />Her jeans are low-waisted <br />They're too tights at the waist, <br />Like new Salome. <br />I'm hearing another music <br />For my and your senses, <br />I'm pricking up my ears <br />And something else too. <br />If Sonecka was here <br />One should take her away: <br />Now I must go away <br />Wherever my Sonecka stays. <br /> <br />(Mirko gets down alone. Nat takes another way.) <br /> <br />To be continued<br /><br />Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nathaniel-sonja-doesn-t-live-here-anymore/
