It you hear that 1 died
and it I was dear to your heart
may be that inside yourself
you will tee! dreariness, all of a sudden.
Fog on the eyelashes.
An ashy trace on rhe lip.
Have you ever thought
about the real meaning oi lire'
Like snow on your palm
childhood melting away in yourself.
Do they really exist? Sorrows...
Do they really exist'
On the ladder of imagination boldly climb up to your youth. It's waiting lor you over there, A beautiful bur enticing rainbow,
And live your life.
Live it to the wry last drop.
Don't nibble .it it, like a mouse his days.
Chew the air with all your teeth.
Run taster than rhe winds and the birds. Overtake them al
Never fbryet that all durations are short.
in some mirrors,
all of sudden get wrinkled.
If you hear that I died
let me toll you what it will really mean.
Thousands of fish of different colours and shades
will he fluttering through my eye.
And I'll be hidden under the ground
and weed will cover me up.
In the meantimes I'll he soaring...
Do you really think that my hand,
or my head,
could, tomorrow, turn into
a willow's root
Do you really think that a small secret,
or a silly fear, 15
could, tomorrow, turn into
You should know that I, actually, come from the stars.
That light created me.
Therefore, nothing will become extinguished,
or shrunken inside me.
Only, one day, and it usually happens at dawn,
I'll return to my distant Sun
with golden eyes.
Because, I am meant for the theatres
a good deal of heart and plenty of zeal,
the theatres of laughter and tears,
where there is no order,
the theatres with a lot of quarrelling,
a lot of singing,
With the end of the performance known in advance.
I the aimers where you don't expect them to be tears waiting in an umbush.
Troubles arrive on tiptoes.
The years are getting drearier and drearier.
you feel the world getting tighter anil tighter
and smile muter and muter,
and somehow - distorted.
Therefore, live your life.
Live it to the very last drop.
I lived my lite that way.
In firry years
I have been in so many centuries.
I admit that it was a silly lite, in a way,
But 1 never stayed put...
All the time on the go...
on, and on...
Now, honesty, tell me
have you ever thought what it really means to die?
And where, in tact the dead disappear.'
What is it that was trying to get him all the time?
Hon t go to the cemeteries - there, you will understand nothing. Cemeteries are the dreariest fair grounds and an ugly theatre.
"You are not meant for such theatres,
with no hope, or zeal,
the theatres ot dried up tears
operating according to the graveyard rules,
with no quarrels, no songs,
With the end known in advance.
I have lived a magnificent life because I knew how to do it.
But, it you heat that I died,
- don't believe it.
Because it's something I don't know how to do.
|6 Live was the only air
I was breathing.
And smile the only language in the world I understood.
I have just dropped on this eanh, in passing, to give you a wink. To leave behind me just a fluttering trace.
Therefore, don't be sad
because the only thing I want is
to remain silly in your eyes and strangely dear to your heart.
At night, when you lift your eyes up to the sky you too, give me a wink, let it be our secret.
In spite of the dreariness of your days whenever you notice a shooting star making tin- sky blush,
remember: that's actually me, crazy as I am, still (lying and living.