April is the cruelest month,
hail storms, like pounding flesh
breathing empty husks of art
through our marvelous cities.
What has God bestowed upon the worthy?
Is not all that is worth something now lost!
Guide your face to the light
for there and only there shall you find peace.
Standing in the naked shadows of my own rain,
aiming towards something, recoiling at its achievement.
The fear of loss – hand in hand – with the burning desire.
And there stand ye – no one.
Never once alone when history keeps me company
The honor of great men, the stories of their lives…
Histoire de ma vie, what have you told?
Left me naked in the hands of God!
And then, that hour of final surrender
closer than ever before I move like a dead man
through the night.
While I crush diamond-shaped glass under my feet
walking along the canals of good hope
Walking, walking –
With every step the burden of thought becomes dust,
forms into shapes, fear no dust.
Though I have not known you, Leonardo,
know that we would have been amici,
Firenze, citta del uomo.
City of art and humanity.
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