The Klimt exhibition
is only virtual: upon endless screens
they project details of masterpieces,
that slowly melt into an unreal
and hypnotic effect, propitiated
by the music of Mozart and Beethoven.
there is one picture, nevertheeless,
that, being an exeptional performance,
doesn't fade so easily into other works:
it is "The Kiss", the most famous at all,
where two lovers remain embraced,
lean, almost deprived of their useless clothes,
and of the obscene tinsel of decency:
upon a rock, that the filthy sprinklings
of the unclean ocean called life,
are just unable to manage to soil.
they are wrapped in a golden clothe,
because golden is the deep nature of love,
and they stay in that pose, crystallized
in that eternal moment, almost frozen
by the fresh breeze of Paradise.
it's really strange that the son
of a goldsmith in a suburb of Vienna
managed to make eternal, with his fingers,
the only moment when the man rises
up from the mud, and stretches out his finger
to find the sparkle given by the Creator.