The cold night is a blank paper where my hands can not write for a caress.
Your back, so white and so foreign.
My sheet.
The reality is a sad smile peeling.
between saudades imagine the smile on your belly.
Where was the love of a poet?
what corner of the living black spring shoot me?
Morning fertile desired letter progresses, idiots, eager to go anywhere.
A drunk walking down the street.
what paths your heart will lie dead?
I have no pain so sad!
Sparrows, cold, shivering fools trills.
My mind escapes by the tangent of a dream.
even though I try I can not remember the pain in your eyes ...
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