Where black is the color, where none is the number

Periodo di grande stanchezza e di profonda tristezza. Sarà che la sera ormai alle sei è quasi buio e le giornate si accorciano. Nella pausa pranzo fa freddo e io mi rintano dove posso, leggendo "Norvegia Wood" di Haruki Murakami.

"I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’,
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest,
where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
where black is the color, where none is the number,
and I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
and reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
but I'll know my song well before I start singin',
and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall"["Hard rain" - Bob Dylan].