"NOSTALGIA"

 

In the end, it's all a breeze.

Breeze of serenity, breeze of rest.

Be it glory of GRACE

or a painfully lost race,

when it's over, it's over;

not a glimpse remains.

Just those memories, nasty binding ones.

Even in relaxation of death

pain of nostalgia is felt.

Pain which itself is pleasure masked.

Stealing some tears and silent smiles

it makes a bridge for us.

To cross for once and have a last glance.

Glance to events that made us,

glance to people who partnered with us,

glance to places which witnessed our role,

glance to roles that seemed so real!

Before we cross back, let the last string be broken

and placed that side to which it belongs.

That caused us cross the bridge,

that caused the bridge itself,

that gave us a chance to revisit the lost!

That which stops the movement ahead

with gentle hands and staring eyes,

grateful heart and clear head.

O my friend, I say goodbye.

I yielded to you setting my will aside;

now, I request you to stay and be at your side.