The mornings are taking off their roses
I'm dressing up with peasant shirts embroidered with red thorns
Sleeping on rainbow's eyelashes crying comets
You are laughing on the narrow alley of the childhood/ homing pidgeon/
I'm stroking the sun tattooed in your chest with the sky inside me
I'm limping because there were few words
On the blue road painted too slowly

My dress smells like strawberries my feet smell like river stones
You are afraid of a magic love like fearing death
I'm shoeing with your fragile dreams
I'm wearing the coat of those two nights
My far dearest the lava of the words is digging seven destinies between us

The bells are ringing from the suspended gardens
Between the star of the mornings and the pearled dew of love
Love is made diaphanously
with burning senses like the eyes of a sky-the magic art
Emptied from very sweet words, very bitter words/
rainbow thrown over the sea