The night wears discretely
the cold and the silence.
There are cold and calm nights,
with the smell of snow.
Oh, if everything would it stay the same!
Under the white of the moon,
The time - without measure,
A moment in which
Nothing can be subtracted,
a moment of great love...
Believe,
In snows, in loves,
In their white delusions...
Thoughts of a poet!
I lower my head
On the body of poetry.