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Poem
Under the enchanted curtain of the night, where the stars whisper ancient secrets,
I no longer desire everything, just an ethereal caress,
A stellar thrill and a minor love to soothe my dreams,
Fragile desires woven into the dance of silver shadows.
Now, I stand at the edge of time, waiting once again,
The years unravel like the fabric of an old tapestry,
The radio softly sings the songs of yesteryear,
And the kitchen walls glow in the yellow of a setting sun.
I toss empty bottles to chase away the evening ghosts,
Listening for invisible footsteps that might break the silence,
Hoping that death harbors something gentler
Than this endless waiting, this heavy silence.
At my fogged window, I write stories with my fingers on the steam,
About quiet pains and half-open joys,
In a small universe where dreams float on calm waters,
I no longer seek everything; I stay with these ephemeral fragments.
The moon, a silver queen, weaves her veil of light,
And under her diamond rays, I find my sweet peace,
An immeasurable moment, a suspended magical time,
A brief stillness in the vastness of my unfathomable past.
Others sleep in their sacred silences; only I remain watchful,
In nostalgic waiting, dancing with the shadows of the night,
Begging for a minor love, a stellar caress, and the thrill of desire,
In a small universe subtly vibrating under the canvas of infinity.
In the secret silence, each moment seems to slip slowly by,
The years become thin like silk under the full moon’s light,
I seek consolation in the simple art of waiting, listening to the depths of the night,
Hoping that death carries a lighter burden than this lonely life.
In the magical light of the moon, I embrace these passing moments,
My desires transform into falling stars,
And in the melancholy of life, I feel the enchantment of eternity
Revealing itself subtly, in every whisper of the night, in every dream.
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