Yesterday night I went for a walk
in a changing gallery shops and bars
packed life sparkling and chatter friends
wich change indeed over time.
And in short I was afraid
I grow old in a world youthful
I do not want to go anymore.
Let me here instead to write things
that other people have desired
feelings who don’t care of my passage
crossed by the roar sparkling
by the bottles raised like molotov.