Let it flow

Among the streets and colors hanging out from windows and doorways,

A dream of solitude is flooding.

I’m looking for you in every image engraved on my mind,

In every lost print let in the city.

With care, I look for you in every color, every window, every doorway

In every fleeting gaze, in the babbling fountains,

In everything, I fail to see you.

Like the wind brushing every tangle in my hair,

I feel a close breeze,

I feel silence and inspirational tempest.

I feel silence, and desire,

I feel your hands, and the light of two charming streams of honey,

I know your language and you know mine.

In that silence we both know, butterflies may I shout.

The more silent I stay, the more I can hear you,

Hear that heart struggle crying to be closer.

An essence of mine is dreaming all the time.

Dreaming your hands around, in silence, the tempest,

Dreaming of you being here, dreaming,

You make me forget the innocence,

The present, the future, the past.

Suddenly I encounter my true self and I.

I feel alive again in that fountainhead of honey,

And I decide to dream your hands,

In this silence with butterflies.

In your eyes, a fountainhead of honey,

And your hands in the wind, silence and butterflies.

With your hands and my chest, we play a lute of flesh and honey,

As I decide to dream your hands, in silence and butterflies,

In your eyes, two charming streams of honey, with music and butterflies,

As I decide to let them flow
From my stomach, my soul, furious butterflies.