The evening is gray and fresh
The petals of the flowers of the apricot
falls because of the soft touch of the sprinkle.

The moist grass becomes
a pillow of cold silk and my back
leans on against the gnarled and strong trunk.

With the eyes closed,
I raise my face toward the clouds
I feel the soft breeze entering in my body
and filling it with its melancholy.

Suddenly a soft essence
is allowed to be sensed here by my side,
and a note of light and hazelnut
is drawn in a distant gaze.

So, my body is alone,
spread under a flowery apricot tree
guarded into a mantel of silver and humidity,
waiting for, missing...

And I am far,
in a world which doesn't exist but lives,
my head resting on your lap,
your hands drawing caresses on my face.

A soft smile appears in your face,
which doesn't take form before my eyes,
hidden how it is behind your hair
that of brown wraps my gaze.