I'll talk to you with the familiar lower case "you", Giovanni,
now that you're not here any more.
This was never possible before.
You, my new father... and I, your new son.
With our wonderful walks to find a coffee,
and chatting, accompanied by the sweet aroma of your pipe.
You had such a complicated story,
among your obligations to judge correctly,
and the revolutions in your family.
Between a sharply spirited comment
and your intense love for art and culture.
You appreciated Life with a veil of pessimism,
that melancholy of a curious person unsatisfied with the present.
You had your own personalized way of respecting others,
with friendship always placed first of all.
You did not give up when your world began to change,
refusing the compromises which were simply tolerated.
An example of moral integrity
which flees from "giving in".
Life was tough with you,
and inflicted a cruel punishment.
A devastating disease for which there was no cure.
The first thing you lost was your ability to speak,
your most brilliant gift.
Then your arms halted...
then you legs.
There, immobile on the bed,
your eyes screamed your desperation.
But, with a bit of life in your lungs,
moving an invisible point over an alphabet,
it was you who asked me "How are you?"
Then, finally, the darkest night,
Your spirit left that exhausted body.
All the pain came out in my tears,
from being a new son, I became a new orphan.
Death does not anger me, just because it took you.
But, I hate the destiny that wanted to take you in that way.
On the grief of having to leave you,
prevails the honor of having met you.
Bye, Giovanni.
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