The last performance

The last performance

Successive masks leave the floor of the dressing room.
I take off the mask defeated with a theatrical flair and movement.
I lost many years in mortal image and time
-And now the two of us ... ... ... ... to speak loudly
As I look at the mirror truth knife dipped in hot trunks gore.
My face wet, wrinkled, aged from pain unrecognizable ... ... .. The light from the projector hanging on the edge of the mirror bleeds.
White canvas mind stirs memories as colored stones in the hands of artist and colorless lips are stuck to the promises of the year
Hands with heavy fire years writing on the body without pen names of people on an adventure ... like scars that remained forever etched in her body.
Motionless, frozen in front of the mirror I look dead.
In the right corner thrown an old gramophone forgotten tune from the last tour of the theater in the villages.
It looks like a wounded soldier in one last battle with the enemy in time sole
And while everything seems dead Unused ... ... music fills the room suddenly
An Argentine tango rolls in my ears ... what sounds embraced Square Theatre where I had to know and love so much. All around me spin and we drunk with love, surrendered to an endless flaming dance ... ... Light perfumed your body trembles in my hands ... the delirium of the moment the fatal passion drifted awakens the memory of the body and tyranny.

I look back the mirror ... .. the idol all my thoughts all the mistakes all the transactions in an eternal silence, all my life in my eyes in front passes.
I put the hand in place of the heart that hurts .... And I touch God ... broken statue in a temple built on a tired heart
The God that it warms the church a love that was dying without lytromo in moonless nights to days without light a jasmine sprig hold and submerge in the soul but the flower of dream defoliation in an uncertain journey masks and life
Oh companion of the soul you are and what dreams harbor mourns ... ....
My hands are not to arrive without Miletus without kissing hopeless around you to stay I want you whispering ...

A magical old violin sounds from the back of the stage of Theatre notes love the bow slips ... and the violin cries rending despair In the last scene the poor violinist dies waiting for his beloved to return since it knows that the only love he left a day off from him not living anymore.
The heart of a winter night stops and lips whisper the name of sweet eyes a tear rolls warm and slumped on the floor and the violin stops, silent forever.
Standing spectators applauding the great actress and shout aloud thumbs while waiting for him to bow.
But the heart is truly bent on ... .. the last touch of his fingers bled and there is still silent motionless as a stone
Voices are heard from the depth of the square of the Theater People trying to climb on stage
Photographers, cameramen are springing up everywhere ... ... .. Someone shouting for an ambulance ... and someone else bent over the actor cries out for a doctor.
But it is too late now ... free travel with the breath of silence with the white wings of death following the light lost his only match searches to find