Mike Youssefian

I am gazing at your wet black eyes,

Mozart, my young and dear friend.

Friend in the days when music

Has lost its taste and color.

The requiem played and sung in the past

To carry your frail body to the stars.

To fill my cold room with sad notes.

Notes of harps, trumpets and the drums,

Shaking the soul of my old existence.

The frozen smile on your face

Tells the mortal story of our life.

Today I cherish your visit to my room,

To fill the loneliness of my heart,

To show me the multitude of angels,

In the farthest height of blue heaven,

Where I will one day spend my days.