Friday is lazy on my mind
That needs a rewind
And recall once again
Why I am walking in the rain
Eager to meet a bold train..
Sunny day and rainless office
Cannot stop my sleepiness.
Private and soft
It draws me to the land
of pink blankets and emerald fields.
I lull in this parallel reality
While the others rush.
Stop after stop,
the door opens and closes
While lives commute and try
To get distracted.
The windows like cinema walls
Show adventures and magic landscapes
Every day with a new bright purpose.
The tropics are here
In the yellow curves on the table
And in my pocket.
Banal fruits we give for granted,
Travelled in group
Scared and green
To my table.
Like migratory birds at their first adventure,
The hidden villages in the mountains
Enjoyed quiet and family,
While watching the progress rush around.
The luxury is over
And things come from the big world
And feelings are drained
From the alpine people.
Invisible and hard,
The cold of this gorge reaches me
And swipes away
the comfort of this Sunday.
Nature touches me
and like a stream Refills my hands.
A thin line defines the border
At the end of the hills
and before the blue.
Green and yellow
mark a new season that is arriving
And drives me to wonder
What is next.
The city at night
Is revealed by its spots
Delineating where the feet and the hearts
Go and hide.
Everything seems far
And secluded in itself,
Concentrating the energies left today
Yellow and empty,
The bench stares at the sun alone.
It waits nonstop for a purpose
And yet it is playing its role.
On the silent train,
I space-travel and time-travel
With no effort.
The welcoming feeling of home
is left behind in a step
And ne realities kick in
I march unnaturally
And the strength is artificial
When fighting is not a choice
but the only solution.
I March stiff and serious
For what will come through the door
And not only my body will be overdressed,
On the sunny grass,
I refuse to count the minutes
And abandon myself into the light
And into this book with potential.
In a cone of rays,
Life seems logical
And nature an expected component,
Fast from the arrogant asphalt
Rushing to the train
Is an art on its own
That only with intelligence you can master.
Quick and instinctive my steps
used to accelerate behind the illusion
Of being the first.
I was crashed and let alone on the track.
I learnt too appreciate each step
That with consciousness I stamp on the ground
And can guide myself faster to the station.
I pour my will into small annoying actions
That like a mosaic assemble my days
and write line by line my story.
It is difficult to read from here
The final labyrinth they form.
A small post-it can hardly contain
The emotions you transmit
With your disappointed eyes
And needy body.
I will write you a sentence
And it will give only a direction
for the future, as the present is nothing
Proud and waiting for its start,
I take my credit card and promise
To embark on this new journey.
A group of strangers
Are brought together by language
coming from far
but already coming closer.
The Black hole is approaching,
Sucking me in with its energy
Of criticism and judgement.
I builds my personal joke
To laugh inside while I agree
To your pointing fingers.
No Black on me but only radiating music.
I know you are connected to my heart
Even miles from here
And on another country.
Surrounded by factories,
You can feel my call,
When the routine gets boring
And the heart heavy.
Fast and straight it climbs the mountain
With the lord nose being its motor
And the admiring faces its cargo.
The little train knows its way,
On the tract that forbidden to humans,
And its personality is antique and unique,
yet home to the roaming foreigners.