November 2nd by Ercole Bonjean
So many flowers of so many colours: white, yellow, pink, purple, blue like the sky, in this unusual November day. The rays of the pallid sun are warm today; every now and then they appear to warm us, while the tall cypresses watch over passers-by: with slow steps, in a long file, they are going to meet their loved ones. The fading pattern of the marble is covered by solemn golden streaks. In a corner, there are a few crosses without names, of simple cheap wood, without flowers to adorn them. Only the children run around them, playing hide and seek, running to their hiding place. Now this place becomes a colourful garden, it fills with scents and chatter, and every once in a while a tear wets the ground, and through the grey clouds a simple prayer flies.