Many waters flew down in a row.
I couldn’t see my traces anymore:
barefoot child footprints, hoofs, wagon wheels
piling up like volcano cinders drifting in the wind.
People had a shrill voice,
a kind of old knife blade stuck in dry earth,
they were coming home with dust in their collars,
the moon’s craters were no more visible.
I began to drink water only from a spring source
carrying it at sunset in a cold pitcher
its shadow was trembling as I walked by
along with my too long shadow,
like two brotherly waves.
For a time I stood close to the ground,
a butterfly wing on a broken earthenware,
feeling my heart growing bigger,
its walls withdrawing inside it,
a bulldozer overturning the rubble.
I was hardly breathing,
compressed by demolished bricks
detached from their foundation.
Like a well without chains
I couldn’t cry anymore,
all my tears were lost.
Around rooster’s wake up
two gray trains collided,
the passengers forgotten on a long list
in the church service
dreams’ barrier broke below them.
It was raining again.
Maybe one day
I should have been born apart,
at a far distance from the place
where the embers’ shadow wriggles
on the ancient brick wall.
The circle of sun,
a spinning run’s print in the sand of memory,
tightened inside my body
like snow melting in March.
Maybe it was farther than dreams,
somewhere between the autumn seeds
sleeping like buried forests
with their crests tired of a high flight
bluer than the first silence…
And my shadow returned home
I woke up in the morning in a deserted house
winds blew drifting in spirals
white sheets white curtains
my arms cut obliquely their way
amid a bustle of things
stepping firmly over shards
tables beds clocks without springs
doors windows squeaking on floors
walls dissolving in fog
dust storms covering my frightened eyes
tormented heartbeats invaded me
forgotten words rainfall
quenched desert’s thirst
with its bitter roots towards sky
I was searching steadily
something given to me a long time ago
to settle again my dream’s foundation
deep under eyelids