Seeing words as insufficient,
I want to reach you
with a touch, but only words
can cross these distances,
flying like birds to reach you
The distances of time and space
make the wings of these word-birds dusty,
and upon reaching the magical lake,
they wash them in the fragrant waters of your gaze
With your hair gathered
below your neck,
you stand there, huddled near the table,
just like in those days...
The image trembles in my memory,
and I sit before you,
motionless, peering into the past,
where I still see those delicate small promises,
those particles of light of grand intentions,
and that expanse we called our green sky
everything is the same in that moment of memory
Then, my friend,
why is there so much darkness in this moment?
