No carbon 14 for the heart
"X pepoïeken"The first time he saw her
He recognized in her face a young Lady
That had been carved a long time ago
In a byzantine and messy workshop
They lived together in his flat
But she left and he went back to his dead statues
One of them, he knew it for certain, was a fake
bought and cherished by some crazy collector
"Too perfect for an antique", he said
But carbon fourteen gave its oracle :
This was sent from the ages by a solitary genius
"Beatrice", he said, appeared to me just in that way
In the opposite way she haunts me now.
She was ancient, as woman is,
when my eyes discovered her face
And this face remains new, althought years have passed
Althought my heart, this crazy collector, doesn't beat as he used to
No carbon fourteen for memories
Reality is what is left from the time past
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