fasahionista

fasahionista
barcelona

måndag 21 mars 2011


Do not ask me how many years I have ...
Ask me how many letters I sent and how many received.
If I'm still young, or if I'm old ...
what matters is whether I am a hive of dreams,
if not by the burden of the dead hope ...
Do not ask me how old I have,
but how many kisses I gave.
If the youth in me, still is a party,
if I take everything at every moment
and if I drink the cup of life drop by drop ...
So I care not how many drops are!
Do not ask me how old I have, but ...
Ask me if I had children,
if I knew educate ...
what did work ...
Ask me my friends ...
and if I could make someone happy ...
Do not ask me how old I have, but ...
ask me what books I read ...
I walked to where ...
why did ...
Ask me what stories happened to me,
wrote many poems,
I had read
many sang ...
And so, just like that, no matter how white they are in my hair,
by many wrinkles that may sail my face, I can call:
"THE YOUNG!"
And those who see me through here or there ...
not actually know my age
but will have the certainty that
I lived!