On vaguenesses of silence time passes. Of a river curving among trees with the branches extending. Languorously while balancing itself. Gently carried by the wind. Slowly in the quivering of a lovingly given caress. Die the minutes shelled by the sand glass of time. Of a sky to the falling zenith. At the bottom of water on extending sand. Falling asleep while dreaming. At these wild hours flee violently. To rest in inside. In this shell which is split. Little by little irremediably. To the edge of time. Where very will crumble imparablement. Not leaving. That dust of wind. Between the fingers slipping. Where the wind carries. From one day alleviating.Coiled in the body of my memory tenderly.