The candle of the night

With your research, in the night of the Slavic capital, I walked, going along dark water of the Danube. A long time, so a long time… Choking heat, of a summer refusing to lie down, enclosed my throat. My steps were heavy. I was without reference mark in the middle of tourists lengthened on banks of the river. They came to seek there a freshness which would never come. Extreme, the night would not manage to detach the red iron mark come to burn the skin of the day. The shades knew it, undulating on water of the Danube, smoothing their forms on the tepidity of the lappings. The monuments of the city followed this ball, being exposed under the sharp glare of the projectors. Their stones were hot. This heat traversed the palm of my hand. I felt to beat the pulsations of their heart. There was in them the weight of a past that this enlightened reverberator. To be this candle meanly, but just enough under which you expected me and where I found you.