Donato Mancini

“Forty days of snow are registered in the Paris archives of 1435, the trees died and the birds …

Mais où sont les neiges d’antan? (1461 François Villon)

But where is the last yeares snow? (1653)

Tell me, if ye know; What is come of last year’s snow? (1835)

Where is fled the south wind’s snow? (1835)

But where are the snows of yester-year? (1869)

But where is the last year’s snow? (1877)

But what is become of last year’s snow? (1899)

But – where are the last year’s snows? (1900)

But where indeed is last year’s snow? (1900)

Where are the snows of yesteryear? (1900)

in my eyes

in my face

in my voice

in my neck

in my throat

in my shoulders

in my heart

in my lungs

in my whole bloody body

in my social organs in general

in everywhere, flushing, sweating, pounding heart

in my collarbone and neck area

in my hands, tingling and prickling sensations

in my left shoulder blade, aches and pounds

in my stomach, and my back is paining too

in my arms, my arms feel big and heavy

Click to enlarge the poem.

before i start i want to say you shouldn’t blame yourself

there’s no point in beating around the bush

there’s something we need to talk about

this is the most difficult thing i’ve ever had to tell anyone

the longer i wait the harder it’s going to be

it’s best if we face this right now

what i’m about to tell you won’t be easy to hear

i know this will hurt but it has to be said

i don’t like being the bearer of bad news

please sit down, this could come as a shock

you knew this was coming, right?

i hope this won’t be a complete surprise

hate to break it to you

please don’t kill the messenger

i have some really bad news

how do i even say this

this is really really hard for me

there are no words for what i have to tell you

i can’t go on lying anymore

you aren’t going to like what i have to say