No need to be melancholy, no need to wander, let everything awaken in silence and caress my heart, where the soul stirs in its depths. Like a golden key that opens the heart, perhaps more tender, more thoughtful, no words can describe it, except dream and love. Gradually it reverberates in my heart, reverberates, gently, softly, as if I am flying, following the music's ups and downs, in heaven, with a suffocating feeling rising up from the bottom of my heart, wanting to escape, but unable to leave, not my choice, so, stay.
It's not the keys that are struck, it's the heart strings. Low and mellow, like your arms, wrapped around. Linger. And kisses. Streams of water, and pain. Breathing deeply, I choose to be silent and let you hover in my world, like a long-cherished wish from a previous life, which I am returning to you in this one.
Is that me, with my light footsteps? Or is it a butterfly? Or are those the wings of an angel?
Opening my eyes gently is a realm of pleasure, rest is my only wish, to be in your arms, to sleep with you in my arms. You strike my heart, like the softness of rain, and the shadow of a tree. Or the moonlight. A quiet moonlight. The water ripples and all is calm again.
Magic, the footsteps of your beginning. There is a sense of God coming down. Embellished, possessed by crystalline dew. Is it the smile of a rose, or the look in your eyes? It's the softness of the wind blowing across your face, and the smell of the mountains, I see the fields, the paths, the green. And the smell of the city. A boundless expanse spreads out beneath my feet. Perhaps it is the way to a faraway place, or the direction of an ideal. Without any answer or hint, it just disappears into the silent sky.
Waiting. Waiting. A sudden crispness echoes in the ears. The lightness of the drops, the splendour of the night. Are the footsteps of spirits. Or a ghostly presence? All is unknown. Random notes, echoing in the hollow, as if to illustrate a human story, yes, I can smell the scent of people and flowers. Swaying, disappearing.
Hoping for your presence. Perhaps this is the end of destiny? Will you come? As if to return a promise made in a previous life. Is silence your way of appearing? I wanted to meet you, so you came.
No reason, just come. In your own rhythm, in your way, in the name of love. You want to open up a world where the future begins under your feet. In fact, you already have this world, in a past life, in love and in dreams. I don't want to ask too many questions, I just want to listen and feel, in the air you breathe, in the same moonlight you are bathed in, you have your way, I have mine, perhaps the most beautiful way is to keep quiet and stare. Or leave, or die, or be reborn, my world, with your soul in it, is enough.
Sleeping, not wanting to wake up, in your love, I choose to die, the only eternal way ...
It was a thrill and a satisfaction for her to have her fingers in control, as if she were accompanying her soul, as if Richard was also accompanying her, or perhaps just herself, a solitary leaf, her soul and her heart as if they were two intimate partners who were talking to each other. But in the midst of countless fantasies, in the moments when the sound of the lute collided with her soul, a deep sadness rose up from deep within her, making her feel pain, perhaps from longing for Richard, or something else, and she felt his presence after an unknown period of time. Behind her, a pair of eyes were staring at her back, she could feel him looking for something, and that unsettling feeling came back to her, as if he were a ghost.