An empty room, a window in white,
the dark outside, the light inside
on him alone,
his knees on his throat

makes up thoughts...
marble background, surronding similair,
the heart of wood has deep furrows.

A fire of impulses
slides down the body
As a lightining in the darkness,
a whirling in the room of thoughts
hangs with a firm attitude.

The jockey of innocence
guides that image in light
for a mental exploration
in some frames of soft reality,
and alwys in their following

I look your you...
Oh my nest could never be
either yours.
Oh your head could never be
under my wings.

Why didn’t you fly up
toward the sky so... ?
Now I wander through the lonely stars
as a Sparrow-Minister
and always in their patterns

I look for you...
remembering...
When you took my heart away
I never felt a sense so strange

so I realized that I need only you

Fliying, I can see you,
Shining, in my dreams again.