NEW SONGS

The afternoon speaks: ‘I am thirsty for shadows!’
The moon speaks: ‘I thirst for stars.’
The crystalline fountain asks for lips
and the wind for sighs.

I am thirsty for perfumes and laughter.
I thirst for new songs
without moons or irises,
and without loves that have died.

A song of the morning that might tremble
the quiet still pools
of the future. And fill with hope
their waves and mud.

A song, luminous and restful,
full of pensiveness,
innocent of miseries and anguish,
innocent of dream.

A song without lyric substance that fills
the silence with laughter.
(A flock of blind doves
thrown into mystery.)

A song that might go to the soul of things
and to the soul of the winds
and that might rest at last in the joy
of the eternal heart.