The Handsome Legend

Don't blame me, reader, for my passion -
I can't keep silent of one youth.
I can't resist the strong temptation
Of telling you some handsome truth.

That youth was born to show the power -
The strength of body, mind and soul.
That youth was born to cast the shower
Of wisdom, goodness - that's not all.

I'm happy I can chant his virtue,
His handsome movements, handsome voice.
I chant his joy, I chant his torture...
That fellow made a worthy choice.

He was the greatness's incarnation:
In handsome harmony, so fit,
In the exemplary perfection...
He was a legend, I admit.

Once on the set he did his acting,
His arts, as handsome as his heart.
His look was handsome, fascinating...
His work was handsome. And so hard.

He was deservedly respected,
His glory tended to ascend...
But thirty two... So unexpected...
The handsome truth came to the end.

That sudden fall... Don't mean the season.
It was the 20th of July.
Nobody knows about the reason
For saying such a quick "Goodbye!"

He fell down. What can I imagine?
The phrases: "Is his blood still hot?
Oh, can he breath? His body's engine...
Will it revive? Alas, it won't.

His handsome features have no fire.
His veins are worn. His face is pale."
How strongly I would now desire
To see the handsome fairytale!
 
I've never seen it and I will not:
It's evident I will stay blind.
But handsome truth... I'll never leave it.
His image lives in my green mind:

His handsome face, his handsome figure,
His handsome words, his handsome soul...
His fame became through years bigger
But thirty two - and that is all.