To my brain that i don't know

To my brain that I don't know
come known words,
vowels, consonants, hyphens
and exclamation marks;
colons, many comas and accents
which to say what I feel for you
I think don't help me at all,
don't help me at all.

In my brain that I don't know
I find images without words,
and all those fruit trees
that I haven't seen for so many years
start dancing happily;
over a sea of clean water
they walk leafy and beautiful,
leafy and beautiful.

In my brain that I don't know
sprinklers of honey open doors
to lively full moons,
that among orange and lemon trees
and peach and almond trees
go on chasing all the shadows
behind the pines and carob trees,
the pines and carob trees.

To my brain that I don't know
a great question is approaching,
that wants to embrace all the letters
that make up the word "Amor".
The letters change places
and make the word "Roma"
and laugh in complicity,
in complicity.

To my brain that I don't know
come the years that we have lived
together, loaded, overflowing with life;
and filled with desire, they make signs
to those which have not yet arrived,
telling them: come and look
how well we are,
well we are.

To my brain that I don't know
the other years we have not lived
draw nearer little by little;
they look somewhat disbelieving,
and don't see how they'll be able to live
as intensely as those,
and they believe that they are different,
that they are different.

To my brain that I don't know
like an explosion, flowers arrive
bringing their cleanest colours;
jasmines, roses and anemones,
dahlias, carnations and camellias,
geraniums, poppies, oleanders
and other flowers that I don't know,
that I don't know.

To my brain that I don't know
to all my body, you come smiling
and you tell me you love me, at the same
moment that I tell you I love you.
It's an unrepeatable moment
in which all the birds of the world,
suddenly, take flight,
take flight.