what is this string
that happens to resonate
at most inappropriate times?
a flat, minor tune
pushing me down roads
I seldom wish to take
through time and space
across ancient landscapes
left behind long ago
faces and conversations
strange coincidences
a few bright moments
some unwise decisions
a remark or little action
that should have best kept undone
paths that bifurcate
echoes that linger
learning to live is hard
no point wishing to have been wise
I can only choose and aspire
to do better today.

Marcus Antoninus


Remembrance (II)

sweet clouds in red skies
tell me what became
of those alternative paths
the untold stories
that my choices left behind

Marcus Antoninus

Senseless nostalgia

If only I had the slightest wisdom
I would have pursued the great Way at once,
never regretting, never going astray.
But I dreamed too much, what a tumultuous child!
instead of enjoying and staying calm.
Being nothing more than a simple human,
my life turned a maze of turns and twists,
like a mountain path, like a very old tree.
Only late, very late, did I came to rest,
after too much unnecessary toil
with a basket full of mature fruit.
How much I learned? how much I changed?
How much a better person at last I became!
Although enriched by this progress
I often cannot help but feel,
a deep nostalgia, a sense of loss,
for what in blindness I left behind,
for the many doors I closed,
and although I can now understand,
I can’t simply erase and forget
the echoes of those thousand paths,
the many lives I did not fully live.

Marcus Antoninus

Childhood dreams

dreams of my childhood
light of my life,
secret jewels and joyful spirits!
at once silly,
nostalgic and uplifting,
sometimes retracted
but never gone for long
and always transcending
a harsh reality
and a world
not entirely lost.

Marcus Antoninus

Ode to a lost time

Long ago, in far away lands,
I grew up admiring the stars,
dreaming of distant mountains
and smelling the fresh grass.
In the crisp winter sky,
Centaurus shone proud and high,
and in lazy warm summer days
benteveos sang to the Sun.

One day I left for the north,
who knows looking for what,
now the childhood world already lost,
my old birds and stars will not come back.
I sit prisoner of space time,
with these memories warming my heart,
under a new gentle Sun
in these new here and now.

Marcus Antoninus