The stage is white
decorated with tiny pieces
of broken glass
on the ground
and blood stains.
The stage is empty.
The actors are sleeping.
The others are gone,
waiting for reality.
Time of muses and illusions,
but alas the game today
is about death.
*
The screen -
dark faces
vibrating
come out of the picture
*
white
black
white
black
white
Red!
*
like butterflies
flickering,
their veins burst
their bodies break
and they - the actors - keep sleeping.
*
An uninvited someone is waiting
in the corner.
He waits - for them to wake up.
And when they scream - from pain
from a convulsion,
from death - Applause!
the décor sprays - cuts heaps of flesh
End!
the curtain goes down...
... black... Applause!
the good always wins in the end
and knows the essence
like a flute,
as a passenger obsessed,
runs on a weightless night.
thinking of teddy bears,
sand and lanterns,
smaller and larger -
they are all wanderers.
*
Another play.
Another game.
Another time.
Another life.
Remember the bear,
remember and tell.
Coffee and the sea -
it was just like that.
It smelled of Paris,
of the pier
and of popcorn.
Ah... how good smell places I've never been to
and which I remember so well...
Smells such as coffee and the sea.
Paris now shines, sparkles, simmers.
And thousands of passengers come down to see,
examine,
inspect
and forget it...
and I look,
I look at those green,
gray, variegated or blue eyes.
They play and sing a street song life.
I want to meet them,
to ask them about Paris,
the coffee and the sea.
Those people -
people with big and round shoes,
hats and wet hair,
walking with umbrellas
carried away in a faraway song -
they are all wanderers.
They know those little streets.
And how a brief, but significant moment
can kill the music of Paris
and the children
and the teddy bear
and the lanterns
and the coffee
and the sea...
They were not there -
sunken, tired,
from sight gray, blue, green,
playful
somehow a short moment and a long step in a turn...
I'm leaving - from here - far, far away
I'm almost flying...
