Silence

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

moonbeams striking on the windows.

In my chest,

a strange voice is awakens

and a song plays inside me

a longing that is not mine.

They say that ancestors, dead before their time,

with young blood still in their veins,

with great passion in their blood,

with the sun still burning in their blood

come,

come to continue to live

within us

their unfinished lives.

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

moonbeams striking on the windows.

O, who knows, soul of mine, in which chest you will sing

you also, after centuries,

in soft ropes of silence,

on harps of obscurity - the drowned longing

and the pleasure of living torn? Who knows?

Who knows?