These are the moments when a merciful
sleep reveals itself
to a delightful night.

These are the hours when a star,
condemned to the pity
of its own shadow, loves hypocrisy,
delights in a desire that brings
nothing new.

You still wear my body - you forget
how many paths it has taken
to get stuck on this side of loneliness.

I am not a wish
that comes true when we forget.
Is it freedom that makes
a person die
in the middle of a sentence?

Is it sleep, stolen from God,
that makes us like our own tears?
I'm trying to soothe
your fickle heart.
I want to shine, enough so
that distance deprives me
of faith in heaven.

Quite by accident I encountered
your touch, it is still too immature
for me to regain a lost whisper,
to cry out a prayer.

My tears are frozen. Even sadder
words that no one deserves.