I beg your pardon, if my verses slip in,
in the quiet nights where sleep settles,
if my lyrics, like whispers, seep into your pillow,
and the echo of my love through your thoughts.
If my words, like shadows, dance in your mind,
and the moon, witness, laughs at my daring,
I dare, without permission, to undress your silence,
to tufts of tenderness, to the breezes of your breath.
I beg your pardon, if my love overflows,
if in your dreams I find myself unable to be immune,
if your laughter is clothed in my rhymes,
and the brightness of your eyes turns into a sweet summit.
If in the mist of the night I whisper your name,
like a thief of instants, like a wandering poet,
I cling to the instants, I sink in the instant,
and my voice becomes the air's constant caress.
I beg your pardon, if my words are waves,
that break on the shore of your being so deep,
if I dare to sail in seas of your dreams,
where love is rocked in fertile whispers.
