old soldier,
left alone,
defends a torn flag
while the world falls apart.
standing with his weapon,
calls the man to stop
and start over.
people demotivated,
disinterested
looks crazy,
reasons they do not have goals.
old soldier,
left alone,
Gace on the remains of his trench.
Too many shots against an indifferent world.
Too many prayers whispered in the wind,
in the gloomy hours.
Tears wet mud,
strip while in his hole,
wait until the last call.
old soldier,
left alone,
dies in his hole,
while people with no goals and no reason
the passes,
throwing cold glances annoyance.
could not die anywhere else?
seem to say.
old soldier,
left alone,
in the world die because they robbed?
Men and women,
boys and girls,
boys and girls,
together on the bandwagon of the collapse,
deaf to your calls, mute the
your appeals,
prophet of truth.
old soldier,
dead and buried,
perhaps leave something to those who look at you indifferent
this stupid people.
A trail and a sign,
counter and irreverent.
Clouds of ideas and maxims of fortitude,
in the ground as bedding
savor the slow relaxation.
A sprout is born from the earth.
A clear beam illuminates it.
Maybe people finally understand indifferent.
But it's too late,
and the wagon is turned upside down.
But not for you, old soldier
left alone.
One hand grasps a flower bloom.
joined in prayer for you,
old soldier,
dead and buried.
Lomnago Bodio, 28 March 2009.
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