I write to you again, friend.
Before the end of winter,
I hope we can look back
to the sweet recollections
of another season.

I learned that
there is a place called home
which brings me great comfort
by the fireplace, where hearth is endless.

But now that
the heady days of spring are near,
I must say I'm relieved from chopping wood
and throw salt into the fires.

I'm confident that
every season is a blessing and a curse,
that the music is loud or low according to our dancing feet
and everyday is a painting of many true colors.

So it does not mean more than a second of a minute
that we are here again, at the edge of ourselves, of life.
I'm in love with all that I can love,
and making love last is all that matters to me.

I'll always near you with a soft smile and eternal grace,
because I have a light that shines around me
and you have it too, if you believe that
life is as fair as you let it be,
and the world will become yours in your own way,
because all you see is yours, for that beautiful
precise moment in space and time
where your eyes touch the light,
and that same light is born again, out of darkness.