Paolo Conte
Miscellaneous
The Winter Woman
Because winter is better
the woman is all more secret and alone
all softer and hairier
And white, alphagan, algebraic and painful
Sweet and exquisite, it's a completely different thing
He wants to go on a trip he doesn't know - he doesn't know - he doesn't know
While the snow attenuates every noise
and on the road the trucks no longer have engines
and this is the time to let yourself sink
into the Middle Ages of his bitter phrases,
he says he doesn't want to sin
br/>but, you know, she does it.
I'm happily busying myself
under a rustle of taffeta 
and I'm basically wondering if
while she shines on the sofa 
in winter, in winter
don't you know you're even more intelligent.
Yes, yes in winter it's better
afterwards it's easier to sleep and go
beyond thoughts like a book
by Lucretius open between the fingers
this is life, between a dressing gown and a sea
those who want to go on a trip
don't know, don't know, don't know

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