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Distant love, o silent mystic! My petals are just made of rubber and the sky is rusty blue. How arrogant your degree has made you have you lost or never had a sense of youth the nerve to hold imploring hands? A man walked naked on the crowded street, accompanied by a dissonant band trombones and drums made a blatant sound, where he was going no one really cared. Ladies wore upon their chuckling heads huge wigs of undulating grass the sinuous bodies graciously they moved, a vision that was there indeed to end. My fragile feet are of clay, I am a giant of wet lands, my days abounds of joy dark and profound my life’s a carnival of rainbows and moving clouds unadorned beehives behind the buzzing crowd, arrays of shops are the backdrop of such stagnant show. How can you hear me? This chaotic circus has a deafening sound, just for few farthings myself I’ve sold now mad I dance and laugh, all covered with dust an incantation no one can dispel. Tell me about the bed you now lay on, your welcoming crib and lonely songs you sing these are not the cruel suburbs of Rome, desperate mothers their addicted sons turned in and fascists beat you, if didn’t like your clothes. A great poet was mercilessly lynched on the same shore he had sang with fervent love. So cursed we lost the sense of who we are since then we live without identity, a spell has made us all insane and dumb. Certain things man dares to say or do may cause irreversible dismay. Are you sure you want to hear a joyous song? Tell me? Can’t you really hear the desperate cry of life? When times are dark that’s when people are awake and start to really appreciate their lives.