To be able to see the stars
during the day, go down to the bottom
of a fountain, drunken by the water's whisper
under the shadow of the heavenly concience,
ready to forget the sun's plains.
I hear the tramples of some ankle boots on the Milky Way,
a cosmic murmur plunged me to the ground.
Where are the poets, to sing the eternety's song?
I feel that something is burning me in the back!
Through the eye ball you've seen
how the grass is growing, how the angels falls.
Nothing is real... but the Time stay still
sleeping in a casket.