Summer of ' 36

disembodied loves with no place 

of origin and destination, 

come to me between storm and mirage .

I see you ,passing by in the ethereal softness

of  a fragile image ...

Do you remember that summer of ' 36 in berlin ?

 The world was at peace and everything 

just fun and games ...

 You were behind the mirror ,all dressed up

in carefree confidences  and deceptive appearances...

 The song of the marshes  escaping from silent lips .

I had not been born into the slumber fleeting of life

 In a world of stooges playing at war ...

  My hand slides as if it were an indecent impromptu

along the cold glass of your senses...

 Living object of your body caught between death 

and passion ...

  Bittersweet taste of a carnal perception .

Do you remember that summer of ' 36 in Paris ?

It was hot under the light silk .

An American chronicling about his adventures 

from bars and women ...

Let yourself be charmed at the café de Flore ?

 I love filling my dreams with your lilac scent...

You turn around and look at me 

with your  sunlit dahlia eyes .

 Haunting echo of an illusion  from a time 

before I was even born ...

 As for me,I'm just a bohemian poet 

building barricades in accacia square 

long after Che Guevarra ...

 and you were sipping your jasmine-scented tea .

Looking forward to letting yourself  be anchanted

by a few well-crafted verses...

 the mirror kept our fingers apart ,

as they reached for each other ...

  Do you remember  that summer of ' 36 ?

 You met an American in Berlin or Paris .

Everything was just fun and  games .

 The marshes have been drained .

I hadn't been born yet to write you a poem 

for rainy days ...