Now, unarmed
you let the cold evening passing through yourself.
I don’t want to let you alone
while your fear goes up the light.
I’ll succeed in feeling your new sweet caresses,
now cold and soft as pure snow.
I’ll succeed in listening to your breaths
without any pulsing heartbeats any longer.
But despair is keeping me here,
denying me any escape.
Down there, among the paper houses,
there’s prophet laying human sacrifices.
I’ll manage to perceive your smiles with no regrets,
re-flowering like roses in May.
I’ll succeed in feeling your words
coming down like September dew drops.
As for myself there’s no surprise,
just the wish not to see any more
with these eyes which uselessly tried
to adapt themselves.
I will be staring after you, always, every day.
My tears are for you
and for those whom were able
to die without forgetting.
Every word of us
is close to become just a memory.