Vidala Del Silencio

Once in the morning of a country of blue mountains
I looked at those small clouds, which usually
remain hanging from the rocks in the middle
of the hill. The air, absent. Higher up, a blue sky,
below, the hard, warm earth.

Someone told me some strange words referring
to those little white clouds, perhaps already distant, that
embellished the landscape...
What you're looking at, friend, are not clouds.

I believe they are forgotten vidalas, waiting for
someone to understand their silence, grasp their word,
hint at their song.

Shortly after that moment that cannot be
fully translated, because it is beyond our
understanding, the silence vidala was born.