I start my march towards the garden.

My feet obey

the instinct of other eyes.

It only takes a hug

from the earth.

Everything is about to begin.

Tears, flowers, candles,

litanies after litanies

and so

darkness...

How long until you feel

the heat of the worms?

How much

until the next caress of the rain?

Now I live a boat

made of wood and glass,

from here I will look

once again the sky,

its foam and its stars.

A silver face

will kiss the memory

you want to accompany me.

I will wait patiently for the end of the tour.