Somewhere in the edge
in a dark forest in ancient Germany,
I will finally find peace
in the earth washed clean of its blood
and plowing of tears ...
At the end of summer ,
carrying in my luggage
the wisdom of age ,
several books of magic spells
and also a bold seadog\'s
meerschaum pipe .
I , who do not smoke .
Just to get a taste of the story
and not forget my Robinson soul...
I would like a land
bathed in infathomable swamps ,
populated by water nymphs ,
few indolent fauns ,
and even an alluring enchantress...
Abandoning my emotions
to the journey of the seasons ,
mixing some italian wovels
in german winters .
Poem, swallowed up in a lake
forgotten by time ...
An old wizzard telling me
these legends of the world beyond...
The nostalgia for my lost youth
and past loves will return to me .
Prelude to the fragile sweetness
of a late september afternoon...
Ignored by the solitary passer-by,
you,heartbroken lover
who has no regard ...
Under the damp moss
of the great oak tree of life ,
I would rest .