LIFE IS SWEET MADNESS

Days go mad.

They are fragile leaves in the wind,

one is chasing the other

without knowing why.

And I am here,

alone,

not,

not alone.

I am in the company

of my poignant memories,

of my sweet follies.

Manuela,

my wife,

is in dreamland.

How beautiful,

my twenty years on the Via Veneto,

a suave,

swirling delirium.

But who,

but how many lived it,

a mad delirium,

a plunge into infinity?

And how many solons,

frustrated,

complexed,

full of themselves,

deluded,

corrupt.

Mauritius,

my friend,

where are you?

Our evenings were simple,

but full of true friendship.

Two Viking girls who then,

the next day,

were already back

in the mists of Sweden.

Life separated us,

but it had to be this way.

It is very evident,

we have lived the delirium,

we have lived life,

a great,

great,

sweet madness.

But how many could understand it?

They told us we were crazy.

Who knows,

maybe they were right,

or perhaps they weren't.

But we have always been

happy to be wrong.

Life is a moment;

life is sweet folly.

Life is.