What will I leave after my last journey but words ?
Little apple ,you who were so plump ,
have I left on your pulp ,only a bitter juicy bite ?
I caught the next cloud, leaving you
this wet parting world ...
And you serious Sybil ,that I have worshipped
and honored like a vestal ?
I also left some alphabets on the melancholy
that your fingers let run on the piano of our lives...
What will I leave behind, after this long voyage
of such a short passage ?
The memory of my poems will fade ,
and the voice of a young soul
just hatched from a spring morning ...
I don\'t believe in these oaths
that are confused with eternity...
Elisa,you who prefered Gershwin to Mozart,
I was sending you letters from an american to Paris,
glinding over the orchestra of a lost transatlantic...
I desired you all in the form of declinsions
dancing in my hands ...
All those words were just poisonous flowers
dipped in a feather of arsenic ...
But they\'ve made you so happy...