I know a place where white stands out - the air.
The sun has stopped hurting
as a gem - not to perish
kissed the white crests - air. Once
- even I did not die for
I took my poetry
the metrics of poetry - like a flute and
- I decided to leave.
some time - to start
I said no!
the country and along the river in the country
had torn clothes and
sail through the storm - the sign.
Forte - the rush of sailing! One day I saw a muzzle
a deer with a big nose -
I thought - the expected sign! -;
tramutai me - in water - a fish - offended.
Oxygen reached me denser. But thoughts
majestic sunsets wonderful
although there are sewage from dense!
I do not know how long - I swam with their bellies touching
the surface of the sand;
such as anger - are misrepresented. If the hair has run down
with fins and hand
always dragging my hand
I gained the limelight of the basin. I've seen sailors
rotten hulls of sailors
reels, foam
excavation - at sunset, red foam.
at night - became the backdrop - a bit cold
'melancholy;
a bit' nostalgic, so
- sigh in the morning - cold.
spaces were more of a handle amp;
fluid - always - in the dark and colder
- most - of the cold. Then
- the prospects were opened - in the abyss viaticum
melancholy;
top - a flat green
the sun - my lawn - green
behind the shadows - of fish - in a pack.
In the morning - the new day
uncertain and already tired - I was afraid
quest'abisso
my dark abyss
the salty taste
my shell - - Mud caked.
Poetry and cultural events prepared by Angela Immediate 
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