In creamy afternoons,
Swans, like floating castles,
Adorn the moats of solitude between our lips.
It was the mortal light
That suckled the childhood of the day:
The savage milk.
My years seem like a glass bridge over the abyss
Learning how to cross, so fragile and alone,
The fear of height,
The fear of depth,
The fear of fear.
Quote: 'The hills: purple thoughts' -E.Pound
The pond glazed in complete silence.
In the last light
All I hear are the hills: purple thoughts
Watching their life in the water:
A tide of earth that became a sigh: old and soft.