Next Generation


When harmony wakes up your heart
and asks you to bend over once again
and put on your old shoes,
you’ll see—they will adapt
to the sharp stones of this generation—
stupid and vainglorious.

When gained freedom
amazes your desires,
there are no wings on your passing
nor a flower to celebrate you.
Instead, you will know that on top of the old slavery,
another one will overlay—
bitter and poignant, even if poetic and imaginative.

So, it has always been,
from generation to generation, start after start,
with no apparent reason.
Even the sun of this generation
will not warm your heart
but will give you a thousand invisible faces
who listen to you in disbelief.

They open their hearts
only when the fear of the dark
is the reflection of their souls.
They look for you,
imploring you that your gentle caress
pacifies their pain.

We find that, in the game of time, our path is finished before it begins. Our eyes open to a new beginning while the dark becomes just a game to remember how it was before. We are free, and the fantasy, at last understandable, shows us the direction toward our true home. Nothing is more amazing than when love fulfills our wishes.