Old Friends Meet Poem by Alexandro Johns

The old friends meet,
it is difficult
they comment or rejoice
with actual experiences.

The time gone
like a turbid rain
falls down in what they lived
and ever dreamed
and drags it memories
towards a still river.

His loves went away
to the attic of their lives:
the ardent flowers
that so much showed
now they are turned off.

No longer they can dream
or have nightmares
with real life,
they are playing
a drunkenness of children,
they want to forget its Yago roles,
and their obeisances to the pyramid top.

The meetings anchor them
at a deserved exile
by stay alive.