the one behind the curtin

oh, I'm so puzzled
there's mystery in the fog
as in the lyrics of the songs
that arouse from the ground
mystery is the natural look
of what we can't see


I'm so tired
maybe you are not the one behind
the curtin
I think maybe I'm wrong once again
and I can't stand any more mistakes
I can't hurt anyone else
with my own mystifications

I keep your pictures
in a sacred place where no one ever looks

I have the warmest letters I wrote
and sent spontaneously to you
some years ago, remember,
when you spoke my name
and I spoke yours too

in adoration, as an island,
we found each other in a silent despair,
and we stayed together for a while

you must be the man in the picture
don't be afraid of being him
that's the one I dream of


but, please, don't talk to me
in other people's voice
I can't distinguish the shapes
of fiction - are they all true?


send me your words
those are pieces of gold
and silver glow

maybe you are the man
behind the curtin
and maybe I'm afraid too
of loving him