A girl runs on a beach in the Algarve
between sand and wet glory.
You run towards a horizon
that sleeps away at dusk ...
Is it love that bids farewell ?
Or the beckoning death ?
The relentless waves of the Atlantis
come and bow at your feet ,
leaving the salty trace of a kiss
I would never give you ...
I watch her pass by like a carnal pulsion
in search of denied sensuality ...
Your body offering itself
at those ambiguous hours
that night already embraces...
The majesty of the Algarve at sunset
turns her into the painting of a blood flower
whose silent beauty moves me ...
I would like to be flesh of the ocean
and come brush against you...
But do still I have that desire-catcher power ?
All theses walkers with hearts at low tide
don\'t see you ...
I don\'t walk ...I fly !
Perceiving the cry of your soul .
Every step striking the ground
carries the nostalgia of wings
burned in the fall ...
It remains like the breath of a birth
beyond terra firma and highseas ...
Is she searching for a kingdom
of sandcastles in the clouds ?
You, the so well known stranger
that the inspired poet
hovering overs the waters
like a clumsy gull ,
invited in a fleeting moment of madness...