Looking at the world
I am seated inside me himself.
Kept inside me himself.
From there, safe, I see the world happening
I see the people walking, listen to noises in damper
the angels blow of me to the ear and I stop leaking the light;
the universe is dyed of ocres, green, yellow
it tones orange, the red one, rose.
Someone speaks to me, I do not register that he is anybody well-known
until it went on from length (this way it me goes).
Out it me is foreign. Scarcely I return in me
when I see that you come,
so with the feet in the ground,
so connected to the world,
so different from me
and so opportune...
that does not seem that we were one
but two interlaced ones that complement each other.