The last page


Within the steam of years

The body slowly withers

and life more and more often dances

between the flashes of reminiscences

Be they the dawn of  a tropical day

The eyes of some Yugoslavian young girls

The flavor of an American pie

The silent garden of a beautiful Arabian land


In those memories persons gently fade

Sometimes they become wandering shades

Sometimes they move like

The characters of a fairy tale

A tale where  you can smile again

To your nice Indian ebony friend

A tale where you return to talk a while

to a smart Korean butterfly.

A tale where your dreams drown into the eyes

Of  Lebanese bartender fairies

A tale where you always look like

Like the master of your own life


But at the end of that tale

You realize that life is not a stage

Where you can turn off the lights

When the play has turned the last page




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