We do not speak much now
we only make love
words are left far behind and we
are travelling on a road where we have rested
from time to time

Silence is already here, in this night
the chirping of the crickets allows
my hand to touch her cheek and lie
inertly like a shroud

Our wandering’s end is a promised land
there is nothing there
only words have become trees
and the grass
an infinite silence