La felicità piove dal cielo, come l'acqua. Una volta un uomo mi raccontò di un'estate siccitosa. Io non potevo ricordarla, perché non ero ancora nato. Mi parlò del caldo, dell'arsura. Dei colori agonici dei prati e delle piante. Mi descrisse le notti insonni passate a combattere con l'afa. Parlando, la sua mimica s'era fatta dolente, affaticata: come se risentisse quel caldo. Poi, una notte, la pioggia venne. Lui la sentì avvicinarsi col suo passo musicale. Non riuscì a stare a letto. Disse che bisognava che qualcuno la ricevesse come si doveva. Uscì sul terrazzo di casa sua e, col viso rivolto all'alto dei cieli, ringraziò la pioggia, le diede il benvenuto. Si inzuppò. Dai capelli, gocce gli colavano sul viso. Gocce che sembravano lacrime. Di felicità, però. Una felicità piovuta dai cieli. - Happiness rains from the sky, like the water: Once a man had told me of a droughty Summer: I couldn't remember it, because at that time I hadn't been born yet. He spoke to me about the warmth, about the heat. About the agonal colours of the meadows and of the plants. He described to me his sleepness nights, spent fighting with that suffocating heat. Talking, his facial expression had become sorrowful, exhausted: as be could feel that heat again. Then, a night, the rain had come. He had heard it get closer, at a musical pace. He hadn't remained in his bed. He said to me that somebody should have received it properly. He had come out, on the balcony of his home and, turning his face to the highest heavens, had thanked the rain, he had given it his welcome. He had got soaken. Drops were trickling on his face, from his hair: Drops, but they looked like tears. Of happiness. Happiness rained down from beaven.