Let the words come back and kiss the beauty bare
love in the room where it started the summer
the evening, the cormorant on the water bright
who despises pride the powerful;
the unwavering love of horses;
the appearance of the flower, before the night explodes under sun of sand
the beautiful wolf distracted in the garden. That
back, compassionate, words and kiss the truth.
. Δ
real things are a woman crossing the street, laconic
news on the radio, the ashen buildings, a dog eager
between people, two children with a swing
"Suddenly, she takes something out of hand and escape,
a man sitting on a bench,
the old detainee before a cypress swing waves
against the pier in the mirror of the car ...
unreal things are passing.
. Δ
The dark wolf out of the thicket
and looks at us from the bottom of the street.
A woman washes her hair
-see her topless in the window lit-
and then wrapped with a white towel.
The street lights shine on the pooled
-seems to tremble its light yellow-
and we live in another place, another scene:
thoughtful, we turn to wolf down to the beach.
The woman looks for a moment into the street
and off the window.
. Δ
happens there on the beach, my life happens in that place
white silence where awake
fog and wind on silent,
happens in water to cover and uncover the rock.
happens in the moment in which nothing moves
and the breeze dies down and stop the tide,
and hidden in the cliff
Cormorant sleeps his long journey on rough waters. Nobody expects anything
, nobody expects anyone.
live in the black night in the dark beach,
the end the take with you anywhere incessant
while the waters cover and uncover
the black rock.
.
..
.
.
.
