WHEN, FINALLY, THERE IS NOTHING LEFT...

When, finally, there is nothing left of me but my words
Perched like birds on the taut wires
Of spirits faightul to the hymns of life,
A hammer will cry out for the extinguished light.
The day will wear mimosa wreaths.
Perhaps there will be forgiveness on the ceaseless sea.
The sun will bear in its mouth, by the stem, its Everlasting
And new voices will say the joy of water.
The wind will lay waste streetlights and statues.
Summer will wear its yellow smock
And the white cane of the blind will tap on grey cobblestones.
Among the jagged rocks and in foresta of souls
Orpheus will seduce the anonymous beast.
Full moons will come to make maidens shudder,
Those who await the advent of love amid cricket and acacia.
I will be faceless. In my ears of grass
Time will ring a bell made of stars...

Iniciado por Matteo Darmian

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