Submitted by Short-prose-fiction
Please, trap me in the rhythms of the Flamenco
Whose sounds invade the nights of Southern Spain
To breathe the notes of the guitars which play,
And, fill the lustrous eyes with burning pain.
And trap me in the Florence of my dreams
To walk with Leonardo in its streets,
To verse in Greek, and cry with the Madonna
When the last word of Christ forever speaks.
And trap me in a Hindu monastery
In splendid nights my sufferings unpacked;
And in the shadow of Mandala
Give me the power never to come back.
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Photo credit: Archi e Fiori – Guido Borelli