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At night, when people don’t part,

In the beige house on the blue lake

Surrounded by a number of rocky mountains,

Between terra firma and watery nothingness,

Not a living soul will sidetrack me

From you, my love.

At night, I take a passageway

Through whispering curtains

Into my disorderly


That speak to me with all tree-tops.

At night, when the wind smells of life

From other planets,

I only need to touch the earth of you, my darling,

In its fragile realness

To slowly go dormant.

Drawing ‘La regina della notte’, Sara Maino 2022