Days of white; long, like the rays of the sun at summertime.
A vast peaceful loneliness, all across the river.
Windows are open wide to the silent blue.
Straight and high bridges between yesterday and tomorrow.
So easy it is to bear your silence, white and empty days
For my eyes have learned to smile, and ceased long ago
To hasten the race of the thin lines on the clock.
Straight and high are the bridges between yesterday and tomorrow.
My heart is used to itself, and it is counting its beatings leisurely.
And in the sweetness of the soft rhythm, it reconciles, gives in, and relaxes,
As a babe singing its own lullaby, before closing its eyes,
Once the tired mother has stopped her singing and fell asleep.