Graveyard Of Little Muses
In A Hurry, Under A Gray Sky's Portentous Clouds
When a blue beauty dies, the world turns deep in its sleep
and tears fill too many cups to count
in a man's evanescent life.
When a colourless monster dies, the world does not mind,
the world is full of them
like the sky is full of stars.
When you will die, the world will dispare
and will shout with rage:
'Why did she had to die? '
People and kings alike will kneel,
laying blankets on your cold bare feet
blankets threaded with gold and kind words
taken from their own yellow crowns.
When I will die, no one will cry as I will cry
the world will not stop, but pass me by
like strangers pass one another in life
in a hurry, under a gray sky's portentous clouds.
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