Come, enter, you traveler.
Drink with us and rest your bones.
Sit, wait to see our dancer,
best performance in town!
After a dark hallway opens
one even darker room
wrapped in ten silk layers
crowded with strangers and smoke
(both of them born plainly
both twisting their shapes, above).
The scarce light collapses
around the centre,
and dare not step
onto the stage.
Someone there, is still and blurry
someone is silent
but a drum
Then, somewhere, the sound of water
is flooding the dancing floor.
Somewhere, echoes of fountains,
shades of an ocean, but not a drop.
“Come, bathe”, cry the strings,
“bathe in me, this is my soul”.
A pair of limbs are swirling.
A pair of eyes are gazing at you.
A pair of blades slash your breathing.
A pair of lips open,
and nothing more.
Each step, an earthly shaking,
a stubborn knock on your heart.
The cadence gets lighter.
The steel meets the dawn.
The air drown in circles,
then it stops
Look there now, stranger.
No room, no dancer, no smoke.
Just the dry, mesmerizing taste
of a bitter souvenir
in your mouth