Entre Folhas ... The days of sun ...

When the roosters sing

think you,
am happy,
clear of moon show
feels  the life to the step,
weighs the no lived time
with you;

I Treasure in dreams split of my life
collect flavours of your mouth,
stars that have been looked boards
there are words that have to reserve
to say you them in the cavity of your mouth,
when the lips are so sealed
that at all it escape  to your senses.

When the roosters sing
seat me to you,
in my knees,
the saltpetre of your body
belongs me
although it do not have you.

Your "daily”, is not with me
although it hurt.

(The days of sun, they chain)