Between dynasties and deaths
men boast of surviving,
without realizing that the mystery of the dream
embraces with fear the knees of Zeus.
Go and come, come and die.
That's the story of the conqueror.
One hundred thousand years and only one world,
separate us from sincerely loving existence.
A man who doesn't get intimidated.
All acclaim that man Herculaneum.
But they forget that the heels of the hero
also bleed like the children's nose.
We are a space requirement,
the difference between the rare and the exquisite.
Between moons and mountains is still hidden
the true illusion of this dying race.
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Magic [a children's poem]
Shut up! [a noisy poem]
I'm on fire! [a poem to reconnect me]
