Between the graves

You lie in the empty cemetery sleeping,
on radiant rectangles, motionless.
I tremble with very passing step
because they slink between the rows
with monotonous movements.

You crouch over a grave,
your face pressed to the earth,
the flowers have wilted little by little.

There was a mirror in our sacred ruin
between the graves.
With your hands you dug a ditch,
the water began to flow.
The morning dawned,
once again I searched for you,
but I no longer saw you.
Perhaps you were invisible from the start.