On the surface the tempest draws its lines.
After the fog has vanished
the light runs though the trees without blinding me.
Wait for the evening
when the contact returns!
The crowd estranges me, it looks for some friends,
it finds the ice,
A soft artifice scattered among the conifers.
During the summer I live in the fjords,
their light is comfortable,
it controls me.
The Answer appears inside the movements of the leaves.
I concentrate my rush for a long time.
When it is too wet,
the air int the city starts dreaming and getting free.
The space has forgotten me,
now I’m free to get in and to get out.
The trees live among the crowd without noticing it,
the invisible trees carry countless roads,
they push the waters into deepness,
they dance with the winds and the lightnings in the dusts
of the desert which is advancing.