Under the endless sky, where the wind whispers ancestral secrets

Under the endless sky, where the wind whispers ancestral secrets, Engines spin, iron butterflies in their primal dance, The muted thunder of wheels, an echo of the earth's hearts beating in unison, And the rain, a master sculptor, shapes stone and brick walls into dreamlike bas-reliefs. Deserted roads, bordered by ancient oaks, guardians of secrets, Their branches, tense bows in invisible duels, Resounding like the crackle of bamboo in the wind, in a dance with fear, Dryads, mistresses of the sky, weave from azure and amethyst a tapestry of mystery. Streams of light, strands of wisteria glowing in the nocturne, Sway in the silver breeze, caressing the leaves in a lullaby, Their song, a poetry of iridescent shades, Tales of fire and opal, calling souls back to the sanctuary of ancestral warmth. From the heights, angelic trills pour forth, silfic light undulates, Rosary corals, incense in golden verses, vibrate in hymns reverberating at dusk, Hallelujah in whisper, doves with crystalline gazes, Rise on wings of dreams, penetrating the silence with their ethereal song. The ocean cries from the unseen abyss, a voice carrying the essence of hidden worlds, The earth and wind, in solemn accord, narrate their cosmic story, In strong cries and sighs, the dialogue of the sea with its eternal admirers, Nature displays its splendor in a language of its infinite majesty. The breath of dawn becomes fog, the snow transforms into tears of spring, The rain, like a cloak of purity, dresses the earth in white porcelain, Before the thaw, at the dawn of a new era, the cold skin of nature lies in wait, A sacred distance, where my hand meets the purity of the storm, in a mystical embrace.