There are loves that are so fleeting
as birds always traveling
pilgrims of a summer sky
that flee when they sense the cold.
And before we wake up the aurora
they leave our conscience alone.
They say 'I love you', and it is true that they feel
love from the bottom of the belly
and they spread fire and your hands
and they make sweet the bitter and profane,
there is no fear nor prison nor pavura
just a time of immense tenderness.
One wants to put chains
retain impossible sands,
more, they slip and go on tiptoe
for his clothes hanging on the chairs.
And you open the inert eyes,
you listen to them leave sweetly
you know well that it is useless to talk to them,
you just cry silently.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)