Bohemio

I feel like a dreamer, I have the
jumbled idea of projects that scare me.
My house is almost the sky, a rooftop,
and I live as I please, on the fly...

My life has been set on fire by bohemia
with a color bordering on restlessness,
my verses are the bread, the bread that rewards
so much desolation and youth.

Bohemian,
I feel the most perverse pleasure
in commenting with my verse
what friendship kept silent.
Bohemian,
no one ties me down and I survive
with the income I don't have
and will never have.
My life
never used comfort
and if it always raised the elbow
I always do it... for a change...
because I believe
it's worse, but more beautiful,
than putting a stamp on everything:
legal tender...

I know about the vile dream and the chimera
because I encounter them at every moment.
The bad thing is that I enjoy myself inside
with things I practice on the outside.

I went out with the lantern and they turned it off,
it was turned off by the woman of my anxiety,
and they say I'm in the dark, but they missed the mark,
I know that the truth illuminates me.