During the night your breath is quivering like a moth in the empty street.
Still awake listening to the sea,
which is rippling in my left ear.
In this white abyss you are just the bottom,
I can’t see you, but your kisses are true.
I would like to drown slowly, and then see the surface becoming crystal.
Oh you, chlorine lips, tell me again the story about the sleet in the desert.
This white universe is colder than the stagnating words in your throat.