Paris Poem by Harold Pinter

Written on a personal experience it seems.

The curtain white in folds, She walks two steps and turns, The curtain still, the light Staggers in her eyes. The lamps are golden. Afternoon leans, silently. She dances in my life. The white day burns. - translated into Italian: La tenda bianca a pieghe, Lei fa due passi e si volta, La tenda immobile, la luce Esita nei suoi occhi. Le lampade dorate. Il pomeriggio incede, in silenzio. Lei danza nella mia vita. Il biancore del giorno brucia.