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