woke up one day
in her bed of candles and cyclamen
openned sunny wings
in penthouse
and flutter
with her weary voice:
O bitter world of
despots and dictators
already in demise and destruction
I love
to live
in love.
.
Then this director
in the middle of audience
stood up
screaming like a director:
No No No No!
This is too romantic
for a contemporary play.
Cut!
But
it was too late
for directors and dictators
to direct
or dictate anymore.
And one could hear
Madama Butterfly
still striving
with her weary voice
I love
to live
in lasting
love.
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