It's one of those experimental films
made by a director who's out of mind,
where nothing at all never happens,
and where a camera placed on a tripod
grinds out a film to get nothing.
there's just one thing which is really changing:
it's the daylight, which little by little
appears over there, going to conquer
everything in this immense world
and, nerve-rackingly, slowly paints
the needles of the nearby tall pine tree,
and the weathercock pointing its arrow
according to the rythm of the wind,
threatening mind-produced enemies:
it would be rewarding to be ghosts,
just to be able to walk, completely free,
on the walls, scraped by the salty wind,
and on the water pipes, rusty for the rain,
where people hardly ever venture
over the time, to observe and admire,
to fully live the existence, and to pray
with the heart's mechanical pulsations:
ghosts, like the brilliant morning star
which slowly dilutes its brightness
into the rising floodtide of light.