A bath of light.
it's the party of the body
that plays with the steam
The misted window of things
draw silhouettes in the air
with the freedom of steam.

They nourish the look
the threads of light
As the day goes by,
I'm giving birth
the way,
the caress,
The Tempest
and calm.

the oasis of sleep
usually looks restorative.
Always clean,
immaculate,
clear of clouds,
with the grace of wisdom...
It's a hoax!
Who conceives it there,
daughter of clarity,
she spawns webs.

I'm giving birth
the caress of the gaze
who shakes her hair
that sprinkles the snow
and she is suspended.

Suspended with its natural halo
on the surfaces of all things.

The ice, the real snow,
the white suspended
is a flood of light.

I'm giving birth to reality
in the caresses of light.