Night

poem by Ruth Salles

Advance at night:
all the weight of their shadows descends on the shoulders of the roads.
Go to the roads and dump everything
in the first moonlit pond.

A breeze blows out the last lights in the superimposed clouds…

advance the night,
with quiet steps, coming down from the mountains,
falling asleep the light of fireflies,
pacifying the sighs of men,
lingering the streams in calm curves,
while the day, sneaky,
spy on the horizon.

***