The tongue of city is this ribbed
Old-fashioned bridge – as way to quit
The land of duties, worries, mess
And marriage laws. Nevertheless
Oblivion that one might win
Just draws the picture of his sin.
You bring to Venice through these stairs
The burden that each liar bears.
Hence you will find beyond the stairs
Those fears, that noone bewares.
Beware the road yet to come –
Deceiving heartbeat tunes its drum.
Pursuing youth and naked charm
You seem to miss your last alarm.
When beauty ceased to breath or drowned,
You faced this bridge, you were disarmed.
The song of city is the flow
Of tainted walls, and when they bow
To liquid’s heels, to trembling grave
You start to find inside yourself
Already touched, and glimpsed but yet
Not recognisable attempt
To bury here and forget
Unfair affairs’ alphabet.
The water is so close, it tempts
to throw your body into depths.
And this proximity defines
Simplicity of many lies.