Soon
by: Iolanda Scripca
Again, there will be water -
In sleep -
reminded me -
a leaf withered...
It reminded me of the vase
In which we were the three of us
Dreaming a dream with dew
Sipping from the month of May...
...and little by little my stem
withered in distress
and my painful leaves
found an excuse in Death...
Again, there will be water -
With little, gentle handfuls
the Life's cup is filling
with crystals of desire
I dream a hopeful dream
regenerating roots
There is the water -
and Oxygen enough...
written at 13, translated now