...
To you that you have
often reconciled my sleep,
to you that you have
accompanied my dream
in the gardens of sweet hope,
where the rainbow is born.

To you that of
the articulated colours
you have stolen
the most beautiful
to give him it to your eyes
what time you leave
half open for tears.

To you that you have
lent to your wind,
your hauled words,
to pursue her it to her
where you have created your dream.

To you now soon
my hand that is of a palm of wadding,
to take such tear that
I have left for a long time.
I take back her drying your face
how wet it doesn’t have
to make to close this eyes.

To you...
...to you...
To you...