Waltz For Zizi
Those Green Painted Eyes, A Dream That Wasn't Mine
'-When are you going to stop crying
for a dream that wasn't yours,
for those green painted eyes.
That girl loved life
more than she loved you.
-Never, I shout back.
-You fool, he replies. No one cares for love now.'
Because when my eyes will have forgotten your shape
from the sky, the tallest of the stars
will return you
back into my arms.
And though I'll be dead then, in a foreigin land,
my heart will keep on beating
in your palms,
and under the sun, no cloud will be brave enough to venture,
to shadow my face.
And because I'll be so far away from you,
I'll entrust my last words to the wind
to sail them to you.
'I love you' he will say.
His tongue will be my own,
his lips will lay flowers
and kisses, my kisses
on your denuded skin.
And when you'll finally die,
from old age, wrinkled,
do not hide your face from me
in the devil's arms,
for I will come and paint your bare feet
in the color of his blood.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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