XXLove letters

 

 

When the future was five franc coin,

 

‘Don’t be afraid,

Listen and think,

Give me your hand’,

She muttered,

‘I never ask much,

The future costs only five francs,

Give me your hand, mademoiselle,

Give me a coin,

Don’t give me more,

Or I will be insulted,

I don’t do it for profit’,

 

Gypsies’ gestures and tongues are usually smooth,

They will tell you to have a little patience,

Fate needs a little time,

To bring to your arms what you expect,

It always starts much fun,

But somewhere deep inside a frightened child wakes up,

A boy who is faithful to his ideals,

A girl who believes in wonder,

 

My Nostradamus wore an old patched shawl,

She had joie de vivre challenging her dilapidation,

A small thin-legged turtle was craning her neck toward my palm,

I stared at heaviness of her hunchback,

Life showed mercy to her,

It was a result of blackmail,

She was protected from death that prowled around,

Under her shell like in the treasure chest,

There were sighing desires,

The world has been craving for since its creation,

 

The gypsy’s eyes narrowed,

Her callous finger led her in the path of my fate,

‘I haven’t seen such fate,

I expected to see a lot,

When I saw, I feared,

Your happiness will equal pain,

Don’t break,

If you don’t, you will defeat death’,

 

For a moment she silenced,

Her finger trembled,

She tried to draw her head straight back under the shell,

Raising her empty blue eyes she muttered something,

I refused to understand,

Or I couldn’t,

I said ‘Enough’ and pulled my hand away,

 

‘It ends nowhere,

The end is near,

Be careful,

It waits’,

I made out her last words,

I left them behind in the alley,

Back then they made no sense.