In the morning,
I raise my hand first in the air
Which opens up, on me,
It touches the eyes,
Caresses the face,
Tickles the nostrils,
Loves lips, med-pelvis, unaware
That they are my insomnia ...
It bothers you,
A wave coming from the open sea
Whispers - I love you…
Touches me, not to break,
Not to convert the sharp cliffs
Into pearly drops which caress
Your soles in the first morning,
Stepping ahead, unaware
Yes they are the scattered gems
Of my necklaces,
Dispersed by despair,
Along the sides of your paths,
Along all those streets where I\'m not…
I\'m following you, quietly,
But never in vain, nor to discover you!
I and you are impersonal
And nameless too...