On A Carousel (Sulla Giostra)
Sometimes you are a sunset tender. Sometimes your eyes reflect the sea light of chestnut and jade. Sometimes you are the golden eagle with the wild in his eyes; all fire and passion in the gardens of Aranjuez. Qualche volta, GianRomeo, sei un briccone! Qualche volta ti vedo la gioia e il dolore di fama. Sometimes you feel like a long lost friend. And, sometimes an embrace of someone that passed this way.
We simply adore you. In that way you share your dreams, hopes, wants, aches and the wonders of travels with so many thousands curious to know just for a moment of you. Didn’t I hear someone say, that when I saw GianLuca, I had him close once more, I touched your hair, there was an echo. I wonder if he haunts me still. Not again will I hold my dearest near to me. But, for a moment, I could dream he was no longer my shadow.
But, you have bewitched me. I feel your warmth in the mystique of your voice, sensual and purring the ear in a romantic baritone. You were the friend, the brother, the son I could have known. Every time I thought I lost the dream, I heard you and became as I was. I was whole, I was content, and I was sunrise.
Gianluca born under the sunrise of a snow moon in the wee town of Montepagano. D’Abruzzo, the blue of the sea, the white of the snow peaked mountains and the green of the fertile foothills in between. So far from home, that old place of mulberry and olive groves reaching to the sea. Now you ride a carousel, sometimes I am in that dream with thee.