Simple Past, Present and Future

For E.

It is so good to see you;
You and your hair flowing freely with the wind,
As the sun strokes behind it create a contrast right out of a movie,
And you hold my hand.

Then, that inimitable smile ebbing out of your lips
Takes over both of us
For an infinite moment, we forget all, but
A serenity like one you feel in a story
Your friend has written, you had dreamed of writing
When you idly watched the posts and the brooks passing by slowly
When you were going to a place where you wanted to be.

There, stretching the words to its utmost limits,
Your tiny laugh twinkles in my ears;
Your cheek touches my heart;
I dream of this moment,
Lying next to you, the white of my hair caressing the crease of your eye...
And I hold your hand.

It is so good to see you.
Again, after all this time.
The needless will not be told,
Our hands know that.

I love you.

Death Afraid

The street is silence.
No mistake there.
Is it dark?
It is.
It is dark.
Actually, it’s pitch black;
The evening and the night led this huge assault,
And left the daylight lying in her own pool of blood.
As usual.

And the cats crawl and brawl,
Waiting for the curtain call.

In an old house in the corner, a sickly bulb is on:
Under it, a young man, a student is there;
His head hurts,
As his brain is covered with a thick mist of lust.
But he doesn’t know that.
He longs for the night, though he dreads it at the same time;
Leave him there, he won’t know for a while.
Let’s go out:

The gaze scatters the cats around –
They are pissed off;
You could tell from the eyes…
Whatever.
Hear?
The anxious steps of a lone girl
comes hurrying down the street.
She throws a quick, trembling glance
Up at the bulb, but then goes on her way,
Behind her, leaving footmarks dipped in red
Disappearing around the corner.
Red?
Oh, yes, by the way, where is the body of light?
Where is the corpse of the day?

And the cats crawl and brawl,
Waiting for the curtain call.

The piercing sirens of an ambulance
Carrying what’s left of a little life
Reflect on the empty gazes of the apartments.
One sibling shrinks away for a second:
is it possible that she may come back?

“Not in my watch!” cries the student in the room,
Finding a firefly trapped between the hands of the hour and the minute;
And time goes on with the inevitability of a knowing hand
going between two smooth legs around the corner;
a dying bulb in mind, a squeal escapes the lips, bouncing off a sweaty bed,
then hopping out of the open window
To meet the first yawn of dawn…

And the cats crawl and brawl,
Waiting for the curtain call.

The bulb dies in the room;
The smooth legs lay still;
The fire of the fly flickers one last time.
The two siblings know what it is to come:
The dark one knows it is his time to die;
The light one knows it is her time to live.

And the cats come to a standstill,
Eagerly licking their paws,
while their yellow eyes scream:
Life kill death!
Life kill death!
Life kill death!