From one edge to the other,
at the crossing of the bridge
you would see at your left
like golden curls from the sun above the water
in multiple jumps
without any predetermined rhythm.
To the right you would turn your gaze to look
you would see more water,
which the rock cleverly separates in two,
light from darkness.
So this side, keeps its waters dark
and the shadows cool every move that would look plastic.
Imagine this little head,
which with his mind
feeds the optical illusion.
It’s like this that it thinks it walks on an acrobatic rope made out of stone
and not on a bridge;
but that’s the way it should be,
as the wind blows
the body, which moves across the bridge.
If you saw it from somewhere far or near,
left with all naturalness it was in every push of the wind;
neither resisting or feeling fear
the wind decided to blow it in the left
– nested – fallen into the curls, the sun’s aquatic hair.
Just before it happened,
time and movement have chosen a different timeline;
the acrobatic body had reached now the other edge
and so the wind started looking for another acrobat
who can let himself free and light on the rope made out of stone
and in the middle of every kind of division.