The tiger of my dreams resembles that other tiger that drinks on the banks of the immense Ganges
sometimes I wonder which one of them should I take care of more

The wind speaks better than us
Inhabitants of a gigantic Babel
Rain comforts better than any government directive
And the golden rays of the sun are warmer than the best political speech

As the years pass by
Her life
My life
Become a poem

This instant
no other
neither before nor after
this instant
when you are and you stop being
water running through fingers
precisely at this moment
when life passes before your eyes
like a paper boat
getting lost on the horizon
so that
we are all made of instants
ungraspable
fleeting and irredeemable

This midday
On the path,
silence,
Only the rumor of my  footsteps
On the dry leaves.
And far away,
The song of a nightingale
Among the trees.
This midday,
When an abyss separates  
My love and her silence

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

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

Savage roses along the path
mesmerized by the echoes of thunders and lightnings
I look for you days and nights
'til the end of my days

Tic Tac
the rain walking on the tin roof
Tic Tac
the rain making shine the leaves
Tic Tac
the rain appeasing the fire of my heart

listen carefully
the murmurs of the trees speak better than us
at least they never lie

Life is like a twilight zone
beautiful scenery hidden by a mist
where your sight cannot reach
and you can only trust your heart

Smootly flows
my wild nature
made of wind and fire
under my skin

Please dear girl
Rest me on your soft lap
Under the blue sky
Listening the far away murmur of the sea

I can't look for you anymore
Denied paths
Forbidden trails
I am a hostage of your memory
How your absence pains me
endless sleepless nights
unfinished poems

The truth
stream going upward to a blue mountain
impossible to conceive
impossible to reach
for this, almost all of us live behind masks that hide our essence
disguises that confuse and conceal
and finally make the truth unreachable

in the Urubamba valley
where the mountains rise to the sky
and the clouds look like cotton candy
where the gods speak with thunder and lightning
where the rock, the cloud and your body become one
and the pure air renews and transforms you
a song and a poem

One April morning rains heavily outside
my footsteps sound very muffled in the church
while the candles shine among the incense aroma


the silver-blue moon
glows in the quiet waters of Yangtze river
I have a thought for you


A gorgeous girl
Flourishes like a delicate rose
Among the streets of fast walking indifferent people


mystery things along the Inca route
walking down by a path near the river
slippery rocks in the mist
suddenly foam rises like the breath of a giant
and far away thunders roars
the Gods have spoken


These days
The claws of death lives crouched between us
but HOPE finally prevail

the sorrows and pains
that cause great love
They are just like lightning and thunder
that precede a bright morning


the sour taste of defeat
Alas of the defeated
there is no story for them
nor sorry
no compassion
they fade from the memory of the times


please dance for me
and move like the golden spikes of May
under a brilliant sun
please dance for me
fill my cup with the promise
of endless nights of wild pleasure

while the wind stirs the moss on the roof
and a furious rain blinds the windows
the crackling of the burning fire
accompanies the whisper of lovers

your beauty
has been been the cornerstone
of my poetry all these years of solitude and despair
at the end
your beauty will vanish
like a beautiful misty morning
dissolved by the sun appearing on the horizon

like a a piece of heaven captured in a dewdrop
so my heart was trapped by your beauty

At twilight
the rumor of the waves
whisper your name
softly very softly