Guccini Francesco
Parnassius Guccinii
Farewell
F.Guccini
.. And you smiled and knew how to smile with your twenties worn like that,
the way you wear a baggy sweater on a pair of jeans;
how you feel the desire to live that bursts one day and you don't explain the
why:
a lulled thought or a love that is born and you don't know what what it is.
Long days between yesterday and tomorrow, strange days,
days wondering what everything was, seeing each other every evening;
every evening coming up to pick you up with that funny sheep of mine oriental,
every evening there, at a dance pace, climbing the stairs
and hearing your footsteps arriving, the ticking of your good mood,
when you opened the door the smile entered me every time in the heart.
Then down to the bar where we meet, our alcove,
it was so much power to talk to each other, play and look at each other,
among the friends who laugh and play around the tables full of wine,
religion of staying late and waiting for morning:
and one night you let it take you away, only the fog and the two of us in
sentinel,
the sleeping city had never been so much beautiful.
It was easy to live then, every hour, guitars and flashes of fleeting stories,
of rapacious loves,
and every night to invent a fantasy like good children of the new era,
every night you seemed to call life to a test.
But amazed and happy we discovered that something deeper had been born,
we seemed to have found the secret key to the world.
It wasn't it's easy to love each other, stay together
and think of having a tomorrow, staying apart;
both of us imagining each other: with chi will be ? In everything a constant
thought,
a memory as bright and hard as a diamond
and at every step we let ourselves be carried away by an emotion that is not full, not
cultured:
seeing each other again was like being reborn once again.
But every story is the same illusion, its conclusion,
and the sin was believing a normal story to be special.
Now time wears us out and crushes us every day that passes by running,
it almost seems as if he is ironically scrutinizing and looking at us, mocking.
And we are really no longer those heroes ready together to face every
task;
we are like two leaves cling to a branch waiting.
The Triangle tingles... farewell, don't think about it and forgive me
if I took a little summer away from you with something fragile like the
past stories.
Maybe once it could have moved you but now it's useless I think, because
every time you cry and laugh you don't cry and laugh with me.

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