Snow also covers the waste.
And the cold insinuates itself under the skin.
How love can grow
without the sap of the gift?
The emotion spreads from a caress.
Life perpetuates itself in the warmth
throbbing of the transplanted seed,
and the earth, the lover, becomes a mother.
Spaces open to fruits
which are soaked in the purest air,
smiles like frozen arrows
they hit the eyes of the sun.
We stop lit by sunset,
the bold view of the reflections
that desire carries above
that white and divine peaks.
A moment of lack of strength,
a lightning bolt of blind abandonment,
the return to the slopes of mystery,
waiting for another beautiful day.
English translation by Claudia Piccinno