Mills are running, always running,
both grinding and sifting.
They are like earth, wood,
roast or blind to birds.
Far away landscapes pass away, wither,
they rust, become mist.
They rise again in another form,< br/>Dreams are humming, mills are running.
Close your eyes, your silk eyes,
sand flows, spins, spins.
Under your fingernails a glitters summer,
sunfish swim in it.
They start from the sun,
slowly come around
blue-washed birches,
hills I'm far away.
The Sun King is flying!
The Night King is shining!
The Sun King is flying!
Close your eyes, your silk eyes,
leaves are playing, fluttering, floating.
A fire is shining under your wings,
moonfish are swimming in it.
They are starting from a moonbeam,
come they come and go, reaching for you
glass silences, small rooms,
cherry tree, star, evening garden.
Mills are running, machines, factories rak,
they all grind, transform
earth, trees, green moss,
red fox, blind bird .
The mills are running, the water is running, moss is growing with it
The stone is growing, the machine is rumbling.
I am sleeping in my mill, the gold of the sun is falling,
The corn floats on the blue canvas, look!
The mills run, the wind blows here and there,
they work, the grain.
My body is my mill, the sun is gold in me,
the corn floats on a blue canvas, look!
Holy banner!
, shining above!

INVIA LE CORREZIONI