as you look at the trees they flourish red
it's a painful morning as we go afar
and suffer the reflected light in the snowfield

we are walking all day long
and we don't utter a word because of the wind
only we know the sun is dreaming
inside our frozen clothes

we are sliding along the valleys
and our memories are crossed by a feeling
of togetherness. we share the fear
of falling into one's own heart.

we resist the temptation and smile.
soon we are saved. friendship makes our way smooth
and leaves no hole in the black soil.

at noon we are reaching a peak we never dreamed of
and the new sight awakens the words
on the lips. something happens. we bear
the stillness as a promise.

the acacia enjoys the lightstorm
when you pass nearby and you recite aloud
the poem of our life. the yellow house
grows up the hills with open doors,
and the music from afar is kissing its stairs
with passion. nobody in.

the book lying on the table is following the wind
while a tiny bird makes a familiar noise.
the time for dinner is gone
and we are talking now with low voice.

the child is somewhere in the garden and cries
from behind the wet clothes hanging on the wire.
he tells us in a foreign language.
what we have missed to remember
when we were lost in the snow.

We understand that all things
have to trust our love to resist the long night.
And we encourage them
by washing our souls in the river.

the grass looks scared
but its green makes the earth
ready to fly from the workers' hands.