Silhouettes from Picturesque by Amalia Bloom

There is a secret in the rhythm
of people passing by:
while they’re moving, they play fetch
with their shadows in the light.
I am standing in the middle,
slowly abiding by the flow,
and all I see is silhouettes
elapsing on the floor.

Sometimes I can’t exactly explain what I see
and what I mean
gets lost in translation.
Yet, all these words I write and sing,
they are pure
and what they convey
is the great love I see outside.

Oh, if only I could voice my thoughts.

I’m mesmerised
by things all around,
fascinated by our movements,
so fleeting, so random.
You fell
just like a leaf falls from an old tree,
alighting on the floor
as a tired soul does.
You got
what you wanted
and I rejoice.

Sometimes I can’t exactly explain what I mean
‘cause what I mean
gets lost in translation.
Yet, all these words I write and sing,
they are pure
and what they convey
is the great love you had inside.

There’s a secret
in the rhythm
that we live by,
the reason we’re alive.
I can’t name it,
I just feel it.
Did you find it
when you leapt?

• Punk
• post-hardcore
• punk rock
• Vicenza