Right now, surrounded by nature,
I meditate in the harmony of a silence
that floods my restless spirit.
Butterflies stick to the glass
like traced watercolor brushes
random.
It's the end of September, the trees
purple blossoms
...pear blossoms.
Where are the birds?
in what cages will they be prisoners,
their wings clipped, banned
their songs and eating waste
toxic.
I am at the edge of the forest
waiting for them to arrive and offering them
a tree laden with fruit.
There will be no peace in my spirit,
until you hear how her breasts vibrate,
let them fly and flutter among the branches
green, that peck the fruits
and break the silence that invades me
like ivy that suffocates me.
Here I will wait, maybe they are releasing
to the prisoners, I already hear their wings
break the wind, I already hear their songs
...perch on my soul.