Cesare Pavese. (№ 322939)

And then, cowardly,
we that the whisper of the night loved
and at home, and paths above the river,
and questionable color shades
in the institutions of special sense,
and sugared pain,
which was silent -
we live broke the chain,
tearing hand from hand,
and fell silent, but the heart
shuddered from the blood.
There was no more tenderness,
and despair was not
on the path above the river:
awakened from slavery,
we learned that we are alone,
and ranked to life itself.