Recently I walked the streets of the city where I live at night. Most of them were empty and I could feel a beautiful silence and a great peace, as if the streets were alive and resting from the day to day.
Looking at the photographs I took that day, very attentively, I went through them again and inspired by them I wrote this poem.
When the streets sleep
you can hear the murmur of the wind,
the whisper of the lights turning on,
some night bird talking to another in its ear.
When the streets have gone to sleep,
darkness covers them with its cloak,
but some are afraid,
and the street lamps try to pamper them.
When the streets no longer speak,
the humidity caresses them,
like a gentle breeze,
between the lights that don't keep silent.
When the streets are lonely,
without the passage of any person,
they tell ancient stories,
like when man stepped on the moon.
When the streets look at the sky,
they see the stars in the firmament,
nothing obstructs that view,
that brings a smile to their faces.
When the streets achieve silence,
the fairies and elves of mystery,
are the masters of the steps,
that draw the paths.
When the streets find quiet,
they rest from the day and its hustle and bustle,
a mixture of serene encounter,
between the earth and the dark sky.
Photography and poetry are art that can often be combined and in this case they have come together to bring you all these lines.
Thank you very much for seeing and reading this far. Best regards to all of you and see you next time.
Amonet.
All photographs are my own, taken with my phone
Separators created by me in Photoshop
Used translator Deepl.com free version