---

A maiden, wounded by anxiety,

waits that the winter settles in a leaf,

the snow that can dry her tearful breast.

Avidity for a thalamus where all pain is gone,

resting with the mother-tree.

To bath in a waterfall

where a god is hidden after a crime.

Nude, the virgin rests in the snow,

waiting now nothing:

bare of clothes that can make her different.

The winds, migrating from the emperor's ear,

whisper among the woods the name

of an unborn knowledge.



No determinated ways in their search,

in their music.

                        Woodwind.

Rumors of an invisible space, rumors

of all the times. Unknown goddess,

unapprehendable.



Caressing the land, the snow,

the winds do not make difference

between it and the maiden.

Now she, with her skin caressed by winter,

cannot understand who she is:

metamorphosis of the conscience:

                                                  flesh-snow-wind:

freshness of the sex and the breast.