May that apparent calm called scepticism never riddle my heart.
Let me escape from the numbness of cynicism from the impartiality of shrugged shoulders.
Let me believe always in life let me believe alwaysin infinite possibilities.
Deceive me, song of the sirens confer a gleam of naivety!
Epidermis, never resemble a frozen implacable hide.
Let me always cry for impossible dreams for forbidden loves for girlish fantasies torn into pieces.
Let me escape from straight-jacketed realism.
Safeguard these songs on my lips, may they be numerous, noisy and replete with chords.
To sing away the threat of silent times.
The wounded woman
Only if you once loved with tooth and nail no safety net no life jacket are you able to understand the bottomless vertigo that opens at the feet of despair.
She thought she'd found the source of the beginning when she met him in the middle of the earth with no shield other than his skin, polished by the sun like ancient gold.
She loved him without precariousness or questions lovingly, silently with that voluptuous gratitude that the spring rain awakens.
Everything was so simple.
The silver-plated verses of countless poets seemed to follow her everywhere as if her heart had become a faithful pet.
Because nothing endures eternally one night she learned, as so many have done before and since that love is a river with its own rapids and others' peaceful pools that always flows to the sea.
Look at it this way: life has taught you, following its habit of a tireless teacher, how the soul draws serene scars on old wounds.
May that apparent calm called scepticism
never riddle my heart.
Let me escape
from the numbness of cynicism
from the impartiality of shrugged shoulders.
Let me believe always in life
let me believe alwaysin infinite possibilities.
Deceive me, song of the sirens
confer a gleam of naivety!
Epidermis, never resemble
a frozen implacable hide.
Let me always cry
for impossible dreams
for forbidden loves
for girlish fantasies torn into pieces.
Let me escape from straight-jacketed realism.
Safeguard these songs on my lips,
may they be numerous, noisy and replete with chords.
To sing away the threat of silent times.
The wounded womanOnly if you once loved
with tooth and nail
no safety net
no life jacket
are you able to understand the bottomless vertigo
that opens at the feet of despair.
She thought she'd found the source of the beginning
when she met him in the middle of the earth
with no shield other than his skin,
polished by the sun like ancient gold.
She loved him without precariousness or questions
lovingly, silently
with that voluptuous gratitude
that the spring rain awakens.
Everything was so simple.
The silver-plated verses of countless poets
seemed to follow her everywhere
as if her heart had become
a faithful pet.
Because nothing endures eternally
one night she learned, as so many have done
before and since
that love is a river with its own rapids
and others' peaceful pools
that always flows to the sea.
Look at it this way: life has taught you,
following its habit of a tireless teacher,
how the soul draws
serene scars on old wounds.