…when you came
everything was faded.

I remember pelicans and lagoons.
stalks of salt. Broaches of frost under the roof.

Big and tall cranes, of seaport,
jiggle from left to the right in front of my window
where it was expected you to appear.

And forgivable the mistake.

In the mornings,
in the evenings they slowly swayed,
as the hand of the young deacon,
whilst he burns incense in the thurible,
Waits for the smoke to be divided from the smell,
gives blesses and simultaneously prays:
– May the doorstep have more people than boredom!

After you there weren’t people with so fine skin.

The instincts, tight to the timber,
jointed with fragile ropes,
eating the brain’s (mind’s) balloon thread
Although sleeping , they understood:
In you
the word beloved
though arrived
as promised;

arrived alone
all alone.
Unaccompanied by any shape,
appearance or a version of the word

Almost as every impatient thing
Approaching March
or as everything when is overstated…,
daisies on your night robe