13-01-2010
I saw the beauty of eveningred
behind the horizon of my sleeping bed
I turned to the sun in gentle blue
and said to the girl: how do you do?
She said to me: I’m feeling nice
I wish I was in paradise.
I saw the beauty of eveningred
behind the dreams here in my head.
x
Undoubtedly conceivable
If he can paint reality
without imagination, as it is
where people think
Ventilate opinions
then he probably paints
a skater on thin ice
or a weary Mayor
but not reality
fantasy without expecting
undoubtedly
dawns on him in
words and doubts
to begin again
if he can paint
without losing reality
better feeling than thought
that time doubted
and people do not feel
how he staggers to abyss
difficult by descent
the fate of his writing
where youth again passes
when the times
conceivable
completed in change.
