A little bit of reality and a little bit of chimera,
I'm sitting at the table of silence, lonely in this era.
My eyes are fixed on the ceiling like some projectors
towards sweet memories, listening some lectures.

It's a little bit early and it's a little bit late.
About yesterday or about tomorrow should I say?
Anyway, I'm not anything I seemed to be,
I'm not a brave Cupid of hearts that sets you free.

I feel a little bit cold and I feel a little bit warm,
like after the wine that makes everything have a form
which catches fire quickly both in love and anger,
motivated by infinite agony, searching for an answer.

Is that a little bit important, or is it a little bit trivial?
As a sparkle, a living heart of a strange ritual,
in which it seems for her of love to be unworthy,
then she looked in the mirror and learned about mercy.

My words have a little bit of sun and a little bit of storm.
Even if they're telling the ugly truth that wants to inform
that I want to hear enchanted songs of the waves again
but then I think, is my soul lying to me? It's going to drain?

The soul separates all and puts everything together,
even if it's a healed heart, or light as a feather.
Makes a little bit of damage, then something useful,
if it was sad sometimes, it was always truthful.

Doesn't matter if it's on Mondays or Sundays,
we all are an amalgam of tears and smiles in this maze.
Smiles that are hiding, then show up again and again
sometimes as a rough illusion that drives you insane.

Yes, it's a little bit absurd, but it's a little bit ordinary.
Not everything in this world is a cake with a cherry.
We all have inside a little bit of love, a little bit of hate,
as tough as it is, we accept that this is our fate.

When your life is covered with many clouds and leaks,
when the frost of the winter causes you cold creeps,
when you pass through the world turning both of your cheeks,
just smile and forgive!

When the brightness of the sun makes you blind,
when the world just laughs at you and they are unkind,
when anything you do, there is always gossip behind,
just smile and forgive!

When you run into the night or the storm with only one shoe,
when you seek for a soul to divide yourself into two,
when you want to feel in the morning the sun and the dew,
just smile and forgive!

When all your life you just wait until the night falls,
when you regret your own life, seeing that nobody calls,
when you want to hit your head to the thick walls,
just smile and forgive!

When you have memories that hurt, that's a bloomer,
when you think they never die, later or sooner,
when you can look at all of them with a kind of humour,
just smile and forgive!

When outside is complete silence and for life you are able,
when the moon rises, almost divine and you feel stable,
when you see the glass is half-full on your table,
just smile and forgive!

I look in the mirror and I'm talking to myself
about how I can not let anyone touch my heart.
For you have gone and have not looked back yourself,
you threw my gentle heart into the bin. Tore it apart.

I wanted to shout: Love, do not leave me here alone!
Don't hurt me and leave traces of blood in my heart!
It doesn't matter that I once loved you, now you're a stone.
I resign. Maybe I wasn't a good candidate. I wasn't smart.

I was waiting for you for a lifetime, but was all in vain, for both,
in time you showed me your true face, by the way you kiss.
For I don't give away my spirit to whom makes an oath,
but to the one who'll give me a hand down in the abyss.

I looked in the mirror and all I saw was an error in two,
unanswered questions in different colours of a war.
If it's a monologue or dialogue, I'm not staying in the queue,
anyways, I don't believe in the beautiful Aphrodite anymore.

I am an Ego
whose heart is revolting,
who with the poetry is flirting,
who knew in this life the pain,
but never lost the power of her brain.

I am an Ego
like anyone else who has complexes,
who dreams at perfect morning's reflexes,
who breaths deeply and tries to sing dearly,
but knows both sides of her life's story, clearly.

I am an Ego
who likes the good evenings in two,
who no longer wants rain, that's true,
who left on life's trip with a single backpack,
but has not allowed her soul to become insomniac.

I am an Ego
waiting on the platform for destiny's train,
who no longer wants illusions in vain,
who does not live listening to the rumours,
but wants, by poetry, to get rid of life's tumours.

I am an Ego
who thinks that still has a chance to complete,
who, after falling, is getting back on her feet,
who is the observer of the world's fuss and art,
but still hopes for the calm of her restless heart.

I close one eye, but with the other, I see everything bright,
and I'm telling myself “let's move on", let's try my luck"
with a smile like a curve that makes everything right,
I'm not allowed to scream, to cry, or to get stuck.

For whatever path we choose in life, the truth or the lies,
we all pay a certain fee, it will rain on our shoulder,
and even if we don't get there, we don't dramatize,
we travel with a restless soul, like a solitary soldier.

We cry rivers of tears in our pain, seeking for our spirit,
we wear coloured masks, between war and peace,
from life's teachings, we build a bridge, we don't quit,
and wandering, we cross it, as long as our heart beats.

She was staring in vain at the corner of the ceiling,
being threatened by a terrible insomnia,
her soul now feels like a big rock peeling
and she thinks: why wasn't meant to be, this euphoria?

Overwhelmed by a misunderstood sadness, guessing,
she is trying to gather a bunch of good thoughts,
praying for the happiness to give her good blessing,
for the fate not to take revenge anymore with its knots.

But then, a slight fatigue shadows her eyes
she remains petrified and breathless,
her cold hands, she keeps them tightened in disguise
and falls down above the paper, senseless.

No, she did not die. Nothing happened. Really.
Just her forehead lost its light, her eyes are absent,
nostalgia is reappearing, as a good old friend, freely
in the sanctuary of love, the demons are present.

She would've preferred for this to be just her imagination,
and the fear that devours her soul, would go away,
leaving deep scars on her with the life's delusion,
but no. She is not any wiser. She just wants to stay.

Beyond the heat of the soul,
the sky was full of clouds
clouds running one after another,
eternally traveling
like the sons of the sublime, wasteful
looking for the hidden star in the thrilling trap.
They were looking for their way
through the questions, begging
with a wise sadness, remaining indebted to me
with some suave whispers until the dawn
leaving behind only echoes to the devouring soul.
It was a late autumn evening
with colourful nature music
with a pale light on the streets
suffocated by traitorous people
leaving a mist of words between me and life,
escaping sometimes...
escaping from the clouds of clandestine thoughts,
waiting for you to come down.
And you came!