The one with the white horse, my Dad,
You said he'd come and make me happy...
Here he is, but he, my Dad, he came late
Fairy tales to me were you saying, Daddy...
You told me there is hope for immortality!
That possibly in my lifetime they'd know
The pill, that heals "every disease or sorrow"
You said it, Daddy, that we are
The most beloved our gods ilk;
That the defeat and pain unknown they are
To our great perennial kin of the league...
You may have been right, in the end,
To dream about this likely story.
But I 'd preferred omnipotent, my Dad,
not to be again to my next worry ...
I can't stand to be always avant-garde;
To get and kill all alone the snake out of its hole;
To remain the last strong leopard,
Alone to lick bleeding wounds in my soul...
