Green was the silence, wet was the light
the month of June trembled like a butterfly
and in the south dominion, from the sea and the stones,
Matilde, you traversed the midday.
You were loaded with ferrous flowers,
seaweeds that the south wind torments and forgets,
still white, shrivelled by the devouring salt,
your hands raised the stalks of sand.
I love your pure gifts, your skin of untouched rock,
your nails offered in the sun of your fingers,
your mouth spilt through all the joy,
but, for my house neighboring the abyss,
give me the tormented system of the silence,
the pavillion of the sea forgotten in the sand.