Why be ashamed? When one has done time, <br />if they let one out, it's because like everybody else <br />who belongs to the streets, one has been in prison. <br /> <br />From morning till evening we wander the avenues <br />whether it's raining or a beautiful sun's showing its face. <br />It's a joy to meet on the avenues people who talk <br />and talking among ourselves, bump into girls. <br />It's a joy to wait and whistle at girls from doorways, <br />hug them on the streets and take them to movies <br />and smoking in secret, lean on their beautiful knees. <br />It's a joy to talk and finger them laughing, <br />and at night in bed, feeling flung on one's neck <br />their two arms pulling you down, thinking of morning <br />when one is released from prison in the fresh sunlight. <br /> <br />From morning till evening wandering drunk <br />and watching laughing passersby enjoying everybody <br />—even ugly people—just to feel themselves on the streets. <br />From morning till evening singing drunkenly <br />and meeting drunkards and starting discussions <br />that last a long time and make us thirsty. <br />All these characters who go talking among themselves, <br />we want them with us at night, down in the trough, <br />and to hound them with our guitar <br />that skips drunkenly and cannot stay confined <br />but throws the doors wide open to echo in the air— <br />outside water or stars may rain down. It doesn't matter <br />if on the avenues at this hour no beautiful girls are strolling: <br />among us is one who laughs to himself <br />because he has also been released from prison tonight, <br />and with him, raising a ruckus and singing, we'll make it to morning.<br /><br />Cesare Pavese<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/street-song-4/
