The Illusion of Things
In a world where „more“ is in constant supply,
feeding frenzies of loneliness, fear and sweat,
the Connecticut ice storm that catches your eye
brings you back to the frame our monologues met.
It was age-old performance, the dancing of veils –
the parade, in a show, in a dream, in disguise…
We imagined each other as somebody else,
we pretended those four-lettered beautiful lies.
And perhaps you arrived, and perhaps I was wrong –
to the landscape of Rilke we added a kiss.
It was more than poetic to seek and belong,
it was sacrilege, death, resurrection and bliss.
It was none of those things… And a universe more.
What you meant, what I felt, how the symmetry slides.
And the knowledge of love is a punishing door
when its anguish opens and closes inside.
The illusion of things is a dangerous fruit;
we imagine until the horizons explode.
Damn the plot – it was not meant to be, but it should!
If the timing could shift, if trajectories slowed.
And the stars would align in benevolent skies
to continue the music of love and regret…
The Connecticut ice storm that catches your eye
will uncover again our two silhouettes.
Lyrics by Diana Stefanova
Music by Plamen Sivov