Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Send
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
I am the desperate one, the voice with no echo... he who had everything, he who everything lost.
Love, when they'll tell you that I forgot you, and even if it'll be me telling you, when I tell you, don't believe me.
I want there to be at every factory and mine exit my poetry fixed on the ground, in the air, on the victory of mistreated man.
I love what tenaciousness is left in my eyes, in my abandoned rooms where lives the moon, and my spiders, and the destructions that are dear to me, I love my being lost, my imperfect substance.
They're not only rage and pain... you know I'm made of a thoughtful stone, the joy of hands clasped together. And, I'm free amongst beings. And amongst beings, I live like air, and I move away from beseiged solitude towards the thickness of battles to conquer indomitable joys.
Take breath away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lanceflower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in your joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined.
Hope has two gorgeous daughters: contempt and courage...
Contempt for the reality of things; courage to change them.