Summer

The summer that perfumes the mountain fairies every day, the crest of the wheat that adorns the valleys, the sintony of the veils of the white waters, you, the shade of an endless line, sad, written in front of the mirror of eternity, a note in black and white sung to embrace you at the close of times. My dream, the ground and the vault of the faraway peaks, an emerald in the light of the river in lace, the stall seat of your evanescence, the thread of the evenings woven to look for you, the song of the night written to tame the hours and my waiting for you.