The light is getting darker,
A fly lands on the bulb of a street lamp
One perceives a smell of burning,
Can you hear the clocks going crazy?
The countdown of the hours turning in slow motion?
The sun reappears sometimes, behind a calm cloud
The wind freezes the ideas, a child eats a pancake
The zinc roofs welcome the violence of the hail
The gold of the brooms sparkles on the mauve dress of the evening
The steel of a knife shines – a woman cooks
Our prayers beat the routine
Steam bewitches the harbor
I held up the glow of a star as a flashlight
The streetlights lined up like soldiers,
They shot the night with their light
Love is silent in this street – it is such a fragile flower