Listening to an echo in passages of time,
moments have sunk in the slow one mutely
in an unknown tomb of Year.
Your name has disappeared in negligence,
sunk forever in waters of the past,
turned into sacred rock, adored
for safekeeping of value, of force and of goodness.
The future has walked
by young wings on an ocean,
being born behind the flight
invisible for the human century;
with one hundred indolent steps,
chewing the world from an exterior,
happening softly on the mortal souls.
This way I sing to the time,
to the colossus of an isolated universe,
with every foot plunged in the darkness
to slide silently.
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