The stars are shiny beads in the night sky.
Who has measured these giants with their billions of eyes?
The world kisses gold coins instead of pearl minds.
A torn pocket keeps nothing inside.
A torn sail is unnoticed while it floats or dives.
My eyes are still pinned to the swallows' sight.
Their dignity forces them to be high.
O flocks! Are you spellbound by the sky's light?
Who knows why I dream of a plane in flight?
A silver plane flies away leaving me a paper kite.
Isn't my kite a torn sail beneath the gigantic stars?
The world looks at gold coins instead of torn pockets and my paper kite.