A child—
unleashes your dream,
brings it to the lips,
and goes away singing.
A child
with a little luck,
understands the silence
and cries diamonds.
And laughs without knowing what to do,
and cries when seeing us cry—
falls asleep with gold under the eyelids
and sleeps to make us better dream.
A child—
hears the blackbird
that drops its pearls
on the reach of the wind.
A child—
is the last poet
in a world that strives
to grow up.
And asks if the clouds have wings,
and worries about the fallen snow,
and believes that we are faithful,
and has a feeling that there are no fairies.
But a child
and we flee childhood—
a child
and here we are passing by.
A child
and here we are persevering—
a child
and here we are in the past.