...Of morose muses

Teach me, my beloved, how to spill wax on your eyelids
for I shall stop you from seeing this universe,
from kissing the monsters of the fake words
around gardens and desolated booths,
because, today, taciturnity waits among ruddy foils
the fantoms which retrieve themselves abandoned.


You didn't change that dirty and ragged raiment,
the colours are still in vain
and a web hides your soul,
imbued by remorses and timeless burning.


The sky is clear in this autumnal day...
only a few clouds flow from space,
when our star falls, burnt by the apathy
that lies deeply within us, until death will overcome it.


26.09.2007