What remains of our loves ?
Summers dressed in christmas empty manger ?
seasons of deceptive mirrors reflecting candor...
I thought I were the ocean\'s maestro
writing the salt of your symphony ...
The gold of your bare skin was a gift from the gods
always playing with whimsical clocks ...
that the instant lies was sweet
contemplating you lying on the shifting sands of illusions,
marine scent burning my senses ...
You were already the object of this other\'s expectations
who had the key to the house of my fears...
What remains of our past glories ?
Impudent youth mocking time ,
banqueting at the table of the titans
and with a backhand smashing the wine cup of imortality !
I tuned, danced and get drunk at the masks ball !
It was only caricature,counterfeit and equivocals ...
The titans were nothing but rag dolls,
harlequins of japery ...
And the creatures left only a tepid trace
in my thirsty midnights ...
Here I am old child carrying november\'s burden.
The embrace -ploughed flesh of my loves
have drawn dry rivers ,
fruit trees no longer offer juicy temptations...
I\'m just a dead memory in a black hole\'s oblivion...
I never known glory
so I disguised myself as a poor poet
who\'s only talent lies in the empty gaze of a coffee cup
and few clouds that pass,without ringing ...
I smile at my companion in solitude ,
still asking me ...
\" What remains ? \'\'