The great director of the night, moves his arms to the rythm of the dragonflies; with reflections of the moon, they change of color, while are dancing nightly melodies, blues and greens of strong passion; but the man sleeps.
From the depths of the gray waters of the sea, emerges like a seagull in flight, the open book of the deep wisdom, and the profane eyes of the man, only see the water and the quiet horizon.
The sun crosses the blushed gate of the sunset, but the man sleeps.
A. & A.