The other corner of the garden

[Marcus Nalgaber]

The other corner of the garden

 

 

I would like to sing 
as if it were not me,
empty of past tears
prisoner of storms and droughts,
nothing more than this

I would like to sing 
with no dust of the roads 
in my voice
vibrating like a bell 
announcing the morning

making fly 
birds and doves
all around my tower
full of power
to awake the souls asleep,
nothing more than this

to sing in green an flowers
in water and moments
painting a sun 
of orange juice
while the rain showers my skin
at the other corner 
of the garden