SUN

Waiting.
In the silence.

Only your fragrance of light.
Waiting in the evening.

A beat to toll, a line.
Far bells remember us your presence,
everywhere
protects few moments.

Silence.

Slides on the see of dark
your immortal essence of peace.
You detach our hearts
from the way of the world
to trow it on depth.

You misunderstand the grey desire.
If you make crying people waiting.

Silence.


Manuel Franceschetti Valeri Coloniale