Sifting Stars (English)

01/01/2011 00:00

 

 

The pond is a large mirror,
pure silver,
framed by the grassland.
The mist falls on the field,
involving the soul,
and increasing my solitude.
Look at the moon, sieve sorrows.
The small spread into the black of night,
transformed into fireflies.
The major get trapped in nostalgia.
And who knows,
to mitigate my loneliness,
Lord goes sifting star,
scratching the blackboard of the universe,
letting them fall,
falling stars,
gold traces of chalk in the wilderness.


 

Copyright © Escritor Alcione Sortica. Todos os direitos reservados.

 

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