Some smiles ago we were children,
our brushes were sweeping clays,
we could get lost in the rain,
but flustering words
were hastily spent by the seashore sight,
as breath was curling the air.

The paradise is moving his long tail,
on which we step, when we are kissing
the shadows of a familiar thing
that has forgotten to grow.

Our encounter has its own music,
on whose surface are skating figures
we recognize with a sigh.

The horse with a broken leg
has a watered silk on his eyes,
while we speak on the last news,
drinking tee with lemon.

Each time we meet,
the blood asks for a light pen,
as we cannot fall asleep
before the fear of being apart fades.