I know of a sun that awakens When the morning is still a promise of light in the night of a world without sounds - a desert esplanade...
I know of the quiet foliages and of good silence when to the ear I invite you without voice in the springs of my fingers.
Tongue, mother of the secrets, opens the ticket to the regatos, for the ways, until the estuary, in streams of hands, now is only discovered.
I know of the foam and the sea that the river hugs calling a sun without mooring cables, When in the red wakening you grasp my thought and you fly gull, light and lighthouse, in the dawn, fire of your wings...
I know the shout of the horizon in immense fire, that draws out the awakened intense instant & the night becomes the Infinite...
poem courtesy of my friend Paul and babelfish, a manipulated version of a non-original found from a portuguese website.. the pics probably russian or from somewhere far, far away.. I have always felt somewhat like a gypsy and lately I am feeling more and more so.. ; ) lol, a world-exploring gypsy with no boundaries!
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