To the distance
these infinite limits
come like evaporating
for the heat of the look:
A time that is a recollection,
a future before lived, and not lived.
Secret beings of silence
in a tacit compass,
dance on the salty water
Celebrating a mute and invisible holiday.
Look at them to sing! Look at them to dance
these giants in his caravan of trip
towards a stranger, celebrating what …!
Is here the detachment of the Universe,
the curve is necessary,
the unpronounceable outline.
Is here the black hole, the black Sun:
Image of ancient wisdom, recollection of the future.
Is here to the incomprehensible whirlwind
with face of nothing and silence.
when the colors change and oneself is another thing
because a limit crosses,
because we fall down inward.
The Sun hides it self,
the land turns, and with him
it goes away the time
and the green
of a beam stays.
Lovers, loved.
It stays the night …
Will it be this night? The dark night of the souls?
It will be the night of the love or will be the night of the dread?
The last Great War comes untied, magic and starred
with the blood spilt by rocks and steps of stone.
The recollection is a light.
Our body greets to the new Sun
that today, gets up.
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