Our Father Sea who are not in heavenand enclose the borders of the island and of the worldhallowed be thy salthallowed be your depth. Receive the crowded boatswith no course over your wavesthe fishermen sailing all night longtheir nets dropped among your creatureswho came back in the morning with the catch of the rescued shipwrecks. Our Father Sea who are not in heavenat dawn you get the color of the grainat sunset you get the color of the grapeswe have sowed you with drowned peoplemore than in any other storming age. Our Father Sea who are not in heavenyou are fairer than the mainlandalso when you raise waves like wallsthen you drop them to the carpet.Take care of the visits, of the livesfallen as leaves on the alleybe an autumn for thembe a caress, a hug, a kiss on the browof mom and dad before the leaving son.
Erri De Luca

Watercolor, Berlin, 2019

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