it was not god –
the hands played
like children in the dust of the road,
and his eyes fluttered like white butterflies –
and he whispered –:
why do you hide your dreams-?
why do you carry faces in front of your dreams –?
in the sun you should lay them –
in the wind you should spread them out –,
on the roads you should walk naked under your dreams,
so that you could become beautiful, as they –
not with your eyes should you love,
not through hard glass should you see the sorcery –
not through square smiles should beauty seep out
and turn to biting drops –
why do you make warriors of your hands,
guardians of your smiles –?
and his eyes fluttered,
and he spoke –: |
o, to see each one leave
with his dreams in his outstretched hands –,
singing towards the sun and the storm –:
beloved, here’s all my dreams –,
take –!
cursed – cursed be the fear –
cursed – cursed be the fear –
not the lust in your watchful eyes
should you give your beloved –,
not knowledge, dripped out in smiles –
see your strange longing hands –
fill your hands with sensitivity –,
and go to your beloved –,
and say –:
here’s all my dreams –,
take –!