Our requiem

Our requiem has white and grey colors. As tints of one blade in the morning. Crossing the stained-glass windows of a church. Our requiem has pleasant and sad notes. As the speech of a sophist. Scattering in the wind. He tells the slow movement. Of our painless movements. A summer in Vienna. To offer the hand to a Bohemian. Looking for our fate. In the crossroads of mixed lines. Taking our lives in the train. Of our already consumed present. Our requiem has blindly. A tolerance on our past. Our requiem puts to sleep our nightmares. The evening beyond so late. In the slowness of a violin. On the paper of our deep dreams. I begin to hope. To meet you soon. To renew and repeat to the infinity our life. Between sweetnesses and bewilderments making of the misfortune an error. Of route for ever. A summer in Vienna. To offer  the hand to a Bohemian. In front of the statue of Mozart. By thinking of our requiem which sealed this fate. To beat in accord. Without other reason. That to like this shiver.