do not know what night is tonight. something is missing. or someone.
widespread weariness in the body.
nostalgia. a slight weight in your chest that pulsates with the heart.
but the moon. and it is full. and it is beautiful.
tonight and warm embraces of Freiburg seen from me for the first time.
stabs with the desire to add a preposition to my presence.
the rest is silence, even if outside is full of items that overlap and speeches that run.
I stay and watch. aspect. apnea.
I say your name
in dark nights,
when the stars come
to drink in the moon, and sleep
the branches of the fronds
occult.
And I feel empty
of passion and music.
Crowds watch singing
old dead hours.
I say your name
in this dark night,
and your name it sounds
farther than ever before.
Farther of all the stars
and most painful of mild rain.
I Love You as then
sometimes? What fault
made my heart?
If the fog melts
as a new passion for me?
will be peaceful and pure?
If I could browse
with your fingers the moon!
. Federico Garcia Lorca.
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