Roberto Ribeiro De Luca

Who are you? What is this in your hand?
Is it a pain, a dream, anything bland?
I know you I mean. You know who I am.
All sadness is vain, stream, not a sham.

Come closer, darling, sit here on my bed.
White sheet is white feeling of dread.
Chorus really loud disperses the soft mist.
A nice blue moon is God’s soul… I insist.

I am bad you think. It’s fact I confess…
Truth is what we can be, nevertheless.
The light is fading, the night is the day.
My good sins flourish later I dare say.

The time has come, strange smell of rose.
Your voice is sublime, my face so close.
Give-me the mirror. I need it you see.
Now I am in you… and you are in me…