How can you be beings so empty
and so filled quite at the same time ?
How does it make that I can perceive
The meanders of your eyes
Salted in your empty looks ?
Where are the poets ?
Where are the murderers of the pure reason ?
Can't we just follow the heart?
And did the scarlet roses all faded ?
There are things which cannot be ignored.
The frosty rain of January
The sticky hands at the exit of the ice-cream maker
The dirty hair of hot summer nights
The sadness of holidays
Love in the look of the desperate persons.
All this is meaningless or supposed to bring the light.
To make the night shine again.
It is black and invisible
And it blinds us but, not deaf us.
And we hear everything about colors of your days
When the twilight floods you.
We know everything of this space which falls to you
Which submerges you.
Of this narrow and dirty empty space.
We know everything of this space which filled our bodies
Of the ignorance of things.
And all that we know
It is that we ignore everything of this space
Which floods us
Night after night.