were known on the streets of the neighborhood, known
in all bars and taverns. He
so serious, so high, so pale and thin, she
brown and brittle, so cute and small.
He was about more or less, fifty,
and she must have no more than two dozen.
He was teaching, I think, in any academy,
and she was studying, I think, an Italian course.
drank and loved, it seemed,
sometimes discussed, sometimes smiling, kissing
and hated, but nobody is perfect,
love is difficult and strange in these times.
Night weakens the heart, funeral
nights of wine and roses.
's to love and its failures,
perhaps we can choose our way.
The sun clean the streets, memory, attenuates
fierce passions.
Invent the end of each story,
that love is eternal while it lasts.
He came one night at the usual bar,
was dressed all in deep mourning, came
drunk and alone, brought the gesture seriously, and in the hands
a wreath for the dead.
She had left him, he explained serene,
and decided to consider it dead,
and provide for his forgetfulness and his eternal rest,
and celebrate his funeral from bar to bar.
So there we were, and what to tell you:
wine glasses and laughter, some puking,
hugs of friendship, eternal night. Requiescat
and toast for her and her memory.
Night weakens the heart, funeral
nights of wine and roses.
's to love and its failures,
perhaps we can choose our way.
The sun clean the streets, memory,
fierce passions dim.
Invent the end of each story,
that love is eternal while it lasts.
Leaving The Almond and was very drunk,
collapsed on the pavement and leaned to his side.
I knew he was dying of stroke,
said something in my ear, broke into my arms.
He took the ambulance with her crown and all,
and I went to meet his request cursed.
I reached the bar he had told me
and the girl looked through the smoke and noise.
finally saw her, dancing slowly,
refuge in the warm bosom of a boy.
I told him I listened, hugged her partner.
I do not know if I cried, there was not hardly.
Night weakens the heart, funeral
nights of wine and roses.
's to love and its failures,
perhaps we can choose our way.
The sun clean the streets, memory, attenuates
fierce passions.
Invent the end of each story,
that love is eternal while it lasts.
