we live only once
but we die many times



Unfortunate luck
We are just like gypsies
That we can't tell each other's fortunes



We were so young; we were so crazy.
But in the end
Everything passes
Everything ends
For better or for worse
Other naive actors
Will replace us on this immense stage called life
And all of us will finally be only pasture of oblivion

The faraway blue mountain
Slowly vanishes in the early mist

this twilight resembles a photo color sepia
distant
timeless
poetic
and so painful
because of your absence

Letters aged by time
Never sent
Stuck in a desk drawer
Broken promises
In the sky the rain and lightning are woven
A poured drink and a half-finished cigarette
The gloom advances
And suddenly the room lights up
The letters are now burning

in the gloom of a provincial cinema
the old super simplex machines
throw a powerful beam of light
the people settle in the rickety armchairs
laugh, clap, cry
start dreaming for an hour and a half
outside it is pouring rain

Traces of fire
On a skin embroidered with tattoos
Body degraded
By alcohol, drugs and sin
But those hands
Oh God
Those hands created beautiful poems
That move us to tears

my loneliness
it is a kind company
never complains
nothing claims me
just a little silence
and a lovely sunset