A throb taut by too many thoughts beats in the deep nocturnal silence. Sleepy is the night, but cold and distant brings the feeble sobs of a woman. The old angry owl, hidden in a pine wrapped in night, covers the sad, gloomy mewing of cats.   Nobody. A scrap of paper biting the asphalt…

May you love so, all your days, as I love your innocent gaze. May you, my son, never suffer the grief I feel every ticking hour. When you’ll learn of my chimera, flap your wings and plunge into the wind, cleansing yourself of dust and stench.   01-12-2011

The ram Is just cleansing the houses, orchards and mountains, and even the sky. The wind prances, poses, and flees, hunting for the sadness of morning. The day comes, woman, and gets going like the old wheel of a flourmill.   The river of life has slim bridges of cut stone, tender and lemon yellow,…

Life is a sparrow downed while flying secure.   Look! Winter is approaching, serious, normal, leaning against the barren trees. Thoughts of every season in terse clouds.   Renewed fables of ancient times. With raised brow,   I will enjoy many a light treat, cool, pure flakes.   On a bough, feathers of dead birds….

Dear, what a moonlit spiendor, this night deep and serene!   Four cirri, maidens in white, a peace that sleeps on roofs and dark fields.   This moonlit night will pass by, just as yon did.   It will fly: just as yon did.   01-12-2011

The tall sheaves are leaning on a lake of golden earth. Still sunny a summer drags all sounds on time-delay. Pensive you walk in the shade, with the same words forbidden, and your restive voice whispers exhausted syllables. As I behold you, swaying in light, turning aflame against the sky, you don’t ask, atop the…

I would have loved you, not in this bourgeois tavern they call world. No.   I would have drowned you in my regrets, to paint glances, visions and torments.   Thusly I want you and stop and wander in the clamor all around.   Then, back. You are all the women of my solemn days,…

Lonely, feigned men, dead branches, living in lairs where the wind chased them, uttering in silence only a lament: being at once lost and old already.   Gloomy refuge is the hearth, when life feels like a tomb, and echoes questions you can never answer.   How laden has your passion been, for you who…

Sweet and serene, the evening others will sip. The gleaming sea is a longing for lasting caresses, a placid, black shadow soaked in dewy petals.   Wandering speechless, with the scent of breaths and hair embraced, grown together from childhood, clinging to the same song.   Then you cry and flood me with eyes of…