When sounds do not make echo or get absorbed elsewhere;
When shadows wander silently and get thinner and thinner;
I turn to myself
to my Soul
then, echoes I make
shadows I knit;
with the dreams scattered
and with the mirror broken in pieces
i reconstruct one
sonorous and livelier than the echo unfound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem