“drinking beyond appearances”

—They called him Qirat, ignoring
his real name, since it was a
challenge to talk to the same.

It seemed that there was
one way only to involve him
in speaking and talking gaily:
in front of a fermented
malt glass he made
best friends with whoever
arrived last.

At the mercy of hiccups, laugh
and pranks, the Baron of
Linguaglossa many stupid
things cranks: he dived naked
into the river rattling off
nursery rhymes on site,
he started to sing in the middle
of the night, he tripped
the landlord of a tavern bothy,
put salt in his auntie’s coffee.
You’d never think that a man
with a serious face like
he would be on a picture
of Tarì—