If I had not seen the life
Always like an apple.
If I had not lived so much
In the city of the carnival.
If it had not attended so
many times to the fair
In search of the eternal fun.


If I had not portrayed me
so many times embraced
by a side with the fame and
by the other with the success
If i had tasted less the
elixirs of the winners
and I had been dedicated
to lose some times.

If the sparkle of the lights
of the flashing marquees
had not attracted me so much.
If I had envied less the Radiant
brightness of the great lights
If I had not flown So down,
almost clearing the ground

By searching the exhausting
sensual experience
Instead of surrounding the
heights own Space of the eagles
Avoiding to fall imprisoned by
the hunters.

If I had not swum as much
against the running rivers
and followed more the course
of that "rivers"
If I had persecuted less
To the reason and the right
but more to the happiness


If the women whom loved
to me had been more patient
and less expeditious to
feel my breath strange.
If I had dedicated more
to take care of the water
of my own cisterns
Instead of spilling it
between the streets

If the sons had not been
so ungrateful
If I had been seduced less
by the honey of the strange woman
If I had never seated at the door
of my house, at the fall of the twilight

And I had not counted the backs
of the friends who undertook withdrawal
If they had been more loyal
and more compromised
If the double spirit had
been as a whole stranger to me,
and also for my nonsense

If the nonsense had been as
poisonous serpent and
I had could run far to hide myself.
When it came to me with its ugly face.
If they could remember more
my laughter, and they missed my joy
and they did not make memory of
my errors and my faults

If it in the decline of my days
my house was not so
lonely and empty…
Then, it would not be
my life... MY WHOLE LIFE

But that is so good that the
life was created by somebody
expert In bandaging wounds.
HE, the one who has the
patent of the pardon

HE extends his arms and
offers His restoring balsam to us.
For Him, there are neither rivers,
nor mountains impossible to cross
And, in the distance between
the East and the West

HE penetrates through the
back door and whispers to our ear:
You may return to begin...

Frank Barreto
04-06-2006
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