nothing in the air, full of quiet feeling.
I get driven by a path of silver.
The white disc shines bright and quiet, far
a motor boat departs
and ideas remain unfinished hung and forgotten;
a breath of fresh moves the leaves of the maple,
a lament of love echoes resound with the penalty I listen to anything a cat
I caress her face.
The light of the White Lady, effortlessly,
I enter in and whispered words that I can not hear, but
find a street in the heart, and I give
sensations rarely tested,
emotions long forgotten.
smile, unseen, in the light silver
as I child, I waited
when the Goddess of the night
who came to fix the sheets.
Listening, so far
go out on the sand,
the lament of love lost and back again,
the White Lady, safe in the silence, looking at me and smiles,
or maybe that I want,
and serene, warmed peace, seeking
Orion in the black sky, and I see the infinite
,
feel that I will lose a few hours,
in the fury of the newspaper.
Without noise,
but only with myself, I'll be back
and blankets, and sank into the pillow, and resume the dialogue left
to listen to the silence,
with my thoughts, and soul that stirs in me, without
rustle, leaving me, and I close this parenthesis
resting the pen next to books.
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