Fable of an imaginary Chinese goldfish

                    My little darling, don't be grim,

                    your memory, as a Chinese fish,

                    swam away with our golden dreams,

                    just fifteen seconds are guaranteed,

                   but yet, sweetheart, try to remember,

                   the yellow bird is already dead 

                   of hunger, after a sad, daft man 

                   opened her safe nest-shelter,

                   truncated then the Condor's wide wings,

                   audience came, enjoying, smiling,

                   gaily saw the bird's dying heartbeat,

                   laughed at the eagle's unseen crying.

                   Do you remember this, darling?

                   My little dear, don't be upset,

                   your memory, like a gold sea-pet,

                   shits all over your inner strand,

                   and madness turns into sadness, 

                   fifteen seconds are needed at least

                  to change havoc into suffering,

                  to impeach the murdered victim

                  "Why, why did you leave me?"

                  to forget the wounds you inflicted,

                  just as human sensibility,

                                       ...

                  and your goldfish enjoys, eh, silly,

                  his self made pains so happily.