Gozzi's untitled poem doesn't tell a story so much as build a feeling. It opens with "3 million hearts (still throbbing)," a huge, slightly eerie image of life that has been "recycled inside everything at once." From there the poem drifts through odd, dreamlike pictures: fragments of a "hidden spirit" folding and creasing like paper, and a machine that records "low pitched sirens" from somewhere beneath the physical world.
It's hard to pin down a single speaker or situation, and that seems deliberate. The poem feels like someone trying to describe something just beyond words, a presence or pattern sensed under ordinary reality. The scattered layout, with lines pushed far to the right, makes the reading feel broken and echoing, as if the sounds arrive from different distances.
The mood is uneasy but fascinated. The sirens suggest warning, yet the tone stays quiet and curious. The strangely exact "810th invisible expression" adds a mix of precision and mystery, leaving us counting something we can't see.