Folds of sadness when the sun rises over the world
and red becomes red from the song of the lonely nightingale
and blue becomes blue
the light fills the valley with flowers of paradise
on their green and transient stalks
do not let yourself carried away by the pain
dress up your smile inside you
as an outline light
the halo on an angel

One day my eyes themselves will feed this overwhelming sweetness
this splendid illusion that we call reality
alive by itself

do not let yourself dragged by sadness
wipe your mouth with the palm
in the morning when
God drowns everything in a honey like light
when your thin fingers get copper colored across the words

to listen with your ears pricked the lapping of small
waves of the river near the childhood pier
chasing away tired dreams
the weeping of the tree sap speeding from leaf to leaf
until the last tree the last star
on the corner where He helplessly stands as a lonely fakir
to the border of fierce love
on the edge of life and death

it's so good I can shout
in these words talked in a heap
that we could call by their real name (only what we briefly said it's true
crying secretly crouched on the pillow)
and that no one hears them.