The silence flows unseen
her murmur lets itself be heard;
migratory birds cross the sky,
with their wide wings the air is kissed.
How much fuel is housed
in frail bodies! – I say.
And I start counting them aimlessly,
wrong of course – distracted math –
until the birds
come out from my gaze’s horizon.
Where to, birds born for flight?
You, who love the light of infinite blue,
the magical rotation of the earth
and in the night laying sleep on branches…

On the sky of the mind words pop up,
through them the pious silence flowing.