News ID: 80718
Publish Date: 24 November 2007 - 06:27
I haven't anything to tell, except a sonnet of honesty
Under a rain of illusion, in a desert of hypocrisy
I haven't any expression other than a confidential murmur
I am entangled by some red eyes, willing for any torture
Here the woman bears babies with stones in hand
There isn't any color and ardor, except resistance, in the land
Except pain, blood and misfortune, there isn't message on the wall
Except the history of anger, shamelessness, hypocrisy and scandal
Olive trees, palm trees and poppies are only illusion and lies
You aren't to look for, in this waste land, except sighs
Last night a strange moaning voice was heard in the lane
Perhaps it was the man lantern or someone
With a bone in throat, suffering pain
This hidden sob is involuntary, you see I haven't anything to utter
You haven't anything to tell, unless to be fledged and to flutter
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