At twilight

by Marcello Comitini

In front of the twilight
that colors the sky red
and scatters gold among the trees
and the shadows of the buildings
my poor body remains
in the gray of the fog.
If I could I would abandon it
in the corner where the last flowers
have lost their perfume.
I ask because my mind
soars up to the stars
There I sharpen my eyes and look at my brothers.
I hear them talking, I see them move
in a land now dying
between buildings built by madmen.
on the gray asphalt exchanged
with a cloudy sky.
They admire in a dream
their beauty. If they don’t find it
they look back
and reshape their bodies with scalpels.
They delude themselves to push
death backwards.
With masks carved on the flesh
they dance to rhythms unknown to me.
The red of the sky
All I need
is the red of the sky that deceive.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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