The summer that perfumes
the mountain fairies
every day,
the crest of the wheat
that adorns the valleys,
the sintony of the veils of the white waters,
you,
the shade of an endless line,
sad,
written in front of the mirror of eternity,
a note in black and white
sung to embrace you
at the close of times.
My dream,
the ground and the vault
of the faraway peaks,
an emerald in the light of the river in lace,
the stall seat of your evanescence,
the thread of the evenings
woven to look for you,
the song of the night
written to tame the hours
and my waiting for you.