In summer the whole city is full of angels
as if there’s a nest of them nearby.
They materialise in the warmth of the sun
and mix themselves among the mortals.
They don’t wear their long, chaste dresses
of Christmas times but
from under their mini skirts
they show their long, brown legs
and under their colorful little tops
their bare breasts
unveiling their sexy naves.
Eagerly they try to attract
men of flesh and blood
longing for the feeling
of the arduous fires of human love
burning heavenly and
flying lovers to the paradise
that they never felt.
Afterwards you never know
whether she was a girl or an angel
because many of them
addicted to love
ask succesfully for asylum
all over the world
or stay for a hot winter.
Opus One 