The Wandering of a Dead Man

The Wandering of a Dead Man I move slowly, like a lost soul, a walking dead, My vision, foreign, no longer belongs to me, It is merely that of a human animal, an unwitting heir Of Greek culture, Roman order, Christian morality, And all the illusions that weave the civilization in which I live and feel. Like a dreamer in a sea of shadows, my mind wanders, Each step an echo of ancient temples, each thought A reflection of the extinguished lights of the past. In the flow of my consciousness, waves of faded memories Crash against unknown shores, carrying me Through labyrinths of marble and silences. My soul was sculpted in the cold marble of Hellenic thoughts, But Roman order raised walls around my heart, In rigid laws and stone structures, chaining my freedom. Christian morality painted contours of black and white, Splitting good from evil in a world without nuances, Where the light of day swallows subtleties. My heart, an ancient relic, pulses slowly, A museum of dust-covered ideas, of illusions lived and felt, An empty temple where the echoes of lost beliefs Mix with the whispers of melancholy. Advancing slowly, like a wandering dead man, Through a world of shadows and ruins, a stranger In a civilization that lives its agony before my eyes. In this dance of shadows and lights, my vision fades, Leaving behind an immense void, a memory of a world that was And of illusions dissolved in the eternity of oblivion. I am a traveler in a universe of unrealized dreams, An echo of a falling star, lost in the void, A wandering soul, without aim or destination, Just an ephemeral dream in a fleeting world, Where illusions dance on the stage of our transience, In a dance of shadows and lights, in the infinity of melancholy.