The Seagull
Those were the days of the end of the war
there was a soldier returning intact:
Intact from earthly lethal cold,
Intact from horror flowers in his room.
He raised his eyes, inhaled deeply,
The word heaven departed his lips,
And as if the world were not there,
A seagull crossed the ethers.
Seagull, seagull, waltz in equilibrium,
Incredible cadence. a call on the shoulder.
Seagull, seagull, whiteness of lilies,
Air and ballerina, seagull of wonderment.
Where are you marching to, song of the breeze,
So rapid, so still?
Shot to the head, a shrapnel is his laughter,
a passing seagull, carrying away life.
The end of the war days were ran
as a seagull passed by, flying, flying.
Slow, like a time of love that is closing,
Empire of wing, of sky, and of when.
Seagull, seagull, waltz in equilibrium,
Incredible cadence, a call on the shoulder.
Seagull, seagull, whiteness of lilies,
Air and ballerina, seagull of wonderment.
Those were the days of the end of the war,
A seagull passed by flying!
And the intact one rolled down to the dirt,
Orphan, naked, wounded, bleeding.