White messenger returned from eternity
to watch over the plain of my destiny
too thirsty, dark and barren
Give it back a grain of green,
maybe a little bit of melancholy!
The brushwood stretch out its hand
in vain, there is no shadow on land.
Sheaf of wheat stolen from its belly
Forsaken skylarks, no trill, lost lullabies.
On her earthly sleeplessness
spread out your eyelashes
Hurry up and bring back the word
that can enliven its world!
Harness you and take off with its grey ruin
and night ghosts on your white wings.
Give back to crawlers the walking
and weigh its suffering.
The time stopped in hungriness.
It is waiting for a sign almost lifeless.