it's structured Italian.
Callisto
The sun hangs high 'bove chain linked fence as I
climb close to skies softened by autumn glow.
Behind-- the cars drive; some speeding, some slow.
Where do they go? It matters not tonight.
From my place o'er the ground the stars do shine;
I search for Lyra, Ares, Callisto...
Winter draws close; I feel it in my bones,
I see it in the trees whose leaves have all died.
And then the black of space looked down on me
and in the far I saw a star shine red.
Or was this dot a plane, or a planet?
With my finger tip I found Ganymede
despite the street light shine and feeling dead
but not yet; I long for Callisto's bed.
The sun hangs high 'bove chain linked fence as I
climb close to skies softened by autumn glow.
Behind-- the cars drive; some speeding, some slow.
Where do they go? It matters not tonight.
From my place o'er the ground the stars do shine;
I search for Lyra, Ares, Callisto...
Winter draws close; I feel it in my bones,
I see it in the trees whose leaves have all died.
And then the black of space looked down on me
and in the far I saw a star shine red.
Or was this dot a plane, or a planet?
With my finger tip I found Ganymede
despite the street light shine and feeling dead
but not yet; I long for Callisto's bed.