nothing more beautiful
than the youth of an old body
with rough ballet-like gestures

under the shelled skin the
crusty muscles – free of virginal
curves

nothing more melodious than
the crack of an antique voice
exhausted but still wild
and triumphant

nothing more savage than
the grey mane bristling up
round the face living a new
freshness under the thick
net of wrinkles – scars from
the carousal-wars

we will get rich and live forever