I watch the shivering clouds drift by ,
sketching out imaginary continents
with no borders other than those
of my caprice...
Poetic alchemy of the ephemeral .
I am the ordinary witness of a sorcery
who holds the key to a parallel universe
where fantasy plays tricks on reason...
Utopia of a trip to the moon...
It\'s the first day of summer
and I haven\'t been born yet ...
already filled with nostalgia
for so many wanderings yet to come ...
As if Vivaldi were painting new seasons .
Or if history were already written
in a few weather patterns ...
It\'s the first day of summer .
when we wish we could hold on
to our youth forever ...
In memory of you, I\'ll gather a few fallen leaves,
carving on them, words than cannot be spoken
but offered to the silence of november\'s sons...
You should always draw smiles on melancholy
to forget loneliness ...
I am waiting for you on this imaginary continent
where I walk on clouds in open space ...