There is an unnatural silence
in this golden landscape.
I whispered my secrets to sunset,
I'm penetrated into the shadows.
The dark doesn't surprise me yet.
The lapping of the sea
foaming on the rocks
conjugates verbs of solitude
that never lead in sadness,
but become feathers of a pillow of quietness
where my soul rests.
It doesn't surprise me yet
the backwash that crumbles sand castles
and I won't shelter in the niche of glass of the dream
nor rest my rationality in the fetal position.
This night I won't leave the anchor of my ship
and turn to non-existent routes
far from the rocks.
I won't be castaway of myself.
I'll stop on the shore
swinging in a hammock
and I'll look the stars
that streak of light
the dark velvet of night.