and dying men.
But here are born and mature, with their dazzle
, with their illusions and
live and love, and even hate
.
But people die.
Every minute, every second, every minute
: And yet they are eternal!
Why men die, but hope and believe and
fight for their principles and do not give up
and spreading ideas.
And that is always and forever our name
their minds, their lives.
And here are born.
But then men die.
killed by indifference,
from the plots were killed by selfishness,
of those who can not comprehend anything. And they are moments
gl'uomini.
Why do not care,
they know not what they are, because
time, sooner or later,
men die!
Many are the lives that the time
has seen and who knows what they'll see:
but who are we at the bottom
left in this world?
Many are people and we
eternal and we are nothing.
by: Poetry (m)
Collection of poems by Salvatore
Carvelli - June 2010
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