I walked
through the orchard of the old house
birds were singing
while the smell of flowers
emphasized the magic
of an unforgettable moment
what a peace
what a calm
what unconscious desire
to dare
and cross the ideal border
that divides
good from evil
water falls with no pity
and wets the lawn of violets
while the melancholic
birches
are watching
ghosts of monkeys
chased by the madness
of the warm wind
of Lake Garda
that never ceases to blow
white powder
that creeps
into the houses of pleasure
to destroy minds
to create illusory happiness
lifeless smiles
self-destructive apotheosis
hymn
to Cocaine
