Sometimes when thought
s'imbriglia in the cobwebs of the past
the prince discovers minstrel
winter and summer.
Smiles fade as watercolors that poorly managed
where the essence and the colors fade
in the fluidity of water and leave her bitter.
River
that takes away everything with it at that constant
painfully go elsewhere.
Yet even if the fate
breathes life I could not
more to consider sky
everything fell together with the temporal .
sharp
Events since then have until now
polluted breath of the tree that I thought true.
tiziana Mignosa
November two thousand and nine
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