The garden of our silences

Let me rest for a moment
In this garden by this pond
Let me convince the flowers
That solitude makes me happy

I have entrusted myself to the clouds
They who too often stare at us
Without touching with their cloth
The gardens of our silences

I will go and tell the twilight
That the rain has failed me
I watered with my bare hands all evening
My roses and I am exhausted

You see, this child in the garden
It’s a mirage, he’s a hundred years old
He comes to play blind man’s bluff with the wind
And chew the thorns of the roses

Silence haunts the palm of my hands
Near the pond, a swan in my garden
Turned into a geyser of smoke
The passers-by looked at it in wonder

Let me rest for a moment
In this garden by this pond
Let me convince the flowers
That solitude makes me happy

Night hides in the sleeves of day
The fabric of light is thicker than ever
August lectures the rain that comes and goes
Like a friend a little too sincere

See, the twilight lingers on my arms
It makes me an ochre and white cradle
A parenthesis of joyful light
That spreads through the pupils of the evening

And this child in the garden
It is a spectre, it is a thousand years old!
He comes to play tarot with the night
And argues with the stars

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