Far and away, high over these lands,
where even the sea has learned the silence,
between sun and nonexistence,
motherly words are growing up slowly
from children’s eyes dew
unveiling snow and grass fields
stretched over earth’s songs,
encrypted piously on stone plates
deeply rooted here.
I’m listening, waiting, reaching out
to be a story page
among everything akin to me,
through its firm settled time
like an eternal fortress
built in thought.
Only loneliness knocks on my door.
I can see every night the same window
lit in the neighborhood.
Like warm vapors steaming up,
the light spreads skywards
through its living orbit
out of sight.
Stepping over the sill’s neck,
the sun has fallen in empty spaces
behind the eyelids.
Colors are swept in the iris
approaching the same wall
My palm sticks on air
like a geyser cornea under fog.
Reaching out it looks like
I’m not alone.
I had asked the tree’s bark
why pain roughens my body.
The forest frowned with all its wrinkles,
pointing to the sky.
Sunbeams were spinning
like clock needles between clouds,
and I figure it out
that the sun washes my daytime
then falls asleep in the blue valley
besides the horizon.
I set my head down on naked earth
waiting for evening to come.
My heart was tired like a well,
fed by the same blood
through which light uncovers the world
flowing in my eyes.
the tram stops in front of the supermarket
a chic lady passes between street vendors
swaying a sun umbrella
she doesn’t give charity
her smile is like an automatic door
a small spider trembles on my elevator’s wall
I step out trying not to touch it
anyway it won’t become a big spider
I open my kitchen window
blowing out a yellow ladybug
anyway it won’t survive on the motorway
I turn my mechanical clock key
time engulfs his children one by one
sometimes a metronome strikes louder
it’s not a solution to dream my life away
each sleep offspring grows like a whale
swallowing churches completely
delivering in the depths shapeless creatures
me I stay inside
I count two sleepless nights
then I get back into the city
an old man with a sun umbrella waits
in the same tram station
I figured out all these
because in this big city
I know only two streets by heart
A second’s heavy beat
fastens a lock on the chain
uniting present and never.
Fir branches bow at night
a newborn dream emerges
crawling on a staircase
Furrows return in the field
the sun gathers ripe shadows
a road lies ahead and behind
smooth and straight.
Sunset sways me sleepless
sunrise’s sting is cold and deep.
Autumn and spring
my burning eyes still search
the betrothal ring
Place it on my finger
the chain would break.
Breathing, sighing, breathing.