Ode to Newark

Isolated I drink summer beer

Curiously freed but not happy

I hear the thick and slow accent

Among the generous smiles of the children

And you know you’re back

Among the factories the traffic circulates

Where you eat bland and greasy food

Here I am drinking a beer of unhappiness

The old man nearby with a deep and comic voice

Is speaking to Italians about his nostalgic life

The city of Newark is not familiar with the night

You could very easily die of ennui here

The waitress doesn’t give a damn at all

About the customers who haunt her

I want to return to the sun, to the beach, to happiness

Thank heavens I only have an hour left…