Time passes and takes me,
a secret from the sea it brings.
Spare me from this spirit
that corrodes veins and more,
leaping beneath the body.
What secret does it hide, then,
paralyzing the fevers,
raising fear within me?
What spares me from the soul,
keeping my breath sound?
Keep me sound and alive,
a fruit, crystal-clear,
that storms and thunder
cannot shake,
preserving its branches.
The secret whispers
in the waters of the dead sea,
calls my name and moves on,
reaches my feet in the tides
of the windiest waves.
Fingers beneath a thousand drops,
walked through gales,
dark and salty they are.
The moisture reveals
the beats of my heart.
Fever cuts me and fades,
in the time the voice comes,
in the depth of this sea,
with love that wraps me,
with a touch of warmth.
One dreams when the sky,
unashamed, cries,
with love and sadness,
wailing and breaking its voice,
never to return again.
The secret is a secret.
In the depth of the soul it lies,
in the depth of the mind it stays,
it lives what time keeps,
the voice of the sea and the desert.
