From me to the sun - scattered crickets,
tired violins gnash in the shoe of the largest
the heart of mime playing affection and stars
beats like a broken coin.
I burn with breath the line of clouds
where wolves waving tails
reconciled with a sunset view of the saddest eyes.
Silence leaks from a verse darkening palms over your face.
And the wind speaks an unknown language to me,
in which melodies choke words.
Dandelions cry unloved, begin to fly, burst,
and suggest to me that the joy and the sun are to anyone
when you want to plunge into the fatigue.
It hides a falling rain from that broken in rags cloud
where I hid my last loneliness that do not share with anyone.