He said
And she put the stones in his pockets, and felt, feel the weight of the stones as if it was his body a little, it was fine, however, a summer day, with the summer sun and the quiet surrounding, I felt that it could have been be the weight of my own body, weighted with lead, moving ahead with certainty, because she knew a long time.
She looks, his eyes are lost, when it reaches his eyes are already lost, smoking alone, the deserted terrace, she said, it is strangely beautiful, there in solitude, some something untouched, immobile - she hesitates before approaching, maybe it is a bit too still only at night and empty terraces. She would say nothing, by far she recognizes her silence, texture intimate, almost secret, his own silence, she asked that they coil them together, he would know he understands - the sleepless nights terraced, and what they carry. She would tell her she has lost her eyes too often, she dint know that it does not clear, however, she thought, and then back the urge to close the eyes and disappear.
He said
Then she walked, and then she put in water, very slowly, her clothes filling with water, is riveting in his body, with stones in his pockets, as the same weight, in advance, and the summer sun. Very slowly, perhaps to let his body still gets heavier with every step further, everything that could be contained in it, very slowly perhaps for the feeling full, complete, of his own body sinking of this she lived.
is the poet who must die.
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