I
But come on, don't listen to my words
not even the songs that I bring you
instead enjoy the summer
that for me is full of calms days.
II
Sunny afternoon that fills me with joy
silly summer happiness, without fear or prophets
then go out and please them all
enjoy the night that it keeps awake
that I can't write you poems nor letters.
III
Tender island breeze baths the seawalls at night
tender flames lights the long mole
dancing over their voices, of gothics hymns.
Utter day with the sun over the mountains,
full of strange calmness.
IV
Find a beach folded of people
and suffocating sand,
run along the mole, jump into the water
until the rain starts to fall
and my hands write tenderly.
V
Sink, wandering submarine
find the heat in the embers of dark sandstone
and find in the moldy seaweed
the same beauty as in this summer flowers.
VI
Your gills will be born by themselves
and your vocal cords
will emit the infinite melodies
of a forgotten mythology.
