Silent go the dead br on the moon, br to know the secret of its smile. br br Did we know the ending of leads? br The dream within the thoughts? br Silent moves the trembling hand br to print its signature on the heart. br br what is so tragic about life? br The memory of bruises or attachment? br We always talked about cleanliness br of language, of lending beauty to words, br when hate and anger brought on the br ugly nuances. br br Somebody revises the text, br Tongue tastes the skin, br I start counting my failures br and my books. br br Silent stands the mother br for the wayward son.