The autumn has the color of the trees.
Her eyes are as the blue
Nuance of the lake.
The tears from heaven,
Fallen in the turquoise garden,
Are washing the disheveled hair of the trees.
Their smile,
With each breeze of wind
Is reflected in my eyes,
Flooding words just being born.
Another bird –
Stops in my garden,
Next to the other silent birds –
Like in my paintings not yet painted.
All of these are in transition
In my exhibition
With green, and brown, and blue.