The blowing of the wind
carries that secret structure
of stony giants,
dangling cliffs,
citadels with hidden carverns,
stalactites and stalagmites,
while the legendary lake remains perfect,
recycling the refreshing love
of a manly Zeus.
Adventurous beauty,
high ravines and mighty mountains,
masses of watery courses,
bulks of natural palaces.
Monastery walls
and their date-palms bending over the lane,
as if coming out from old paintings,
traditional windmills whirling around,
like embroidery works upon lively pictures.

I saw you at night
in the plain of dreams,
and you were the fairest dream.
As a white heron of silence,
as a white heron of the waters,
I wished I could fly against the stars
together with your universal light,
both naked in the sheet of passion
where desire reaches its end.
Hands like candlesticks of love,
crystal-clear lucidity,
speechless hours of nightly gavotte ...