Poem by Amelia Rosselli:

There is something like pain in this room,
Overcome, yet the weight of objects is felt,
Implying gravity and loss.
There is something like red in the trees,
But the base of the lamp is orange
Bought in places I don’t wish to recall
Because they, too, weigh heavy.
The hunger of the other cannot be understood
Resources have been stylized
Precisely for those who desire
The change of men’s fate
separated from noises.