I Am Not One Of Those Who

Italy Is A Dream That Keeps Returning For The Rest Of Your Life.

Mary Magdalene Beat Her Breasts And Sobbed, His Dear Disciple, Stone-faced, Stared. His Mother Stood Apart. No Other Looked Into Her Secret Eyes. Nobody Dared.

I Should Be Proud To Have My Memory Graced, But Only If The Monument Be Placed... Here, Where I Endured Three Hundred Hours In Line Before The Implacable Iron Bars.

How The Miracle Of Our Meeting Shone There And Sang, I Didn't Want To Return From There To Anywhere. Happiness Instead Of Duty Was Bitter Delight To Me. Not Obliged To Speak To Anyone, I Spoke For A Long While. Let Passions Stifle Lovers, Demanding Answers, We, My Dear, Are Only Souls At The Limits Of The World.

If You Were Music I Would Listen To You Ceaselessly And My Low Spirits Would Brighten Up.