One thousand thanks, Moon
you that touch land still
in the November night
enclosed by three silver points
with the diamond sword of Orion.
They delivered an alive one, at nine of evening
thousand light years from here, to the Asian player.
He is not that a little bundle, he will not have billions from his father
in his country of football players and cheerleaders.
He will fly above a scorpion, with Panacea
who does not care anymore do even the plants
in this blind world of Erinni.
Every message is a dead notice
stuck with spits to the window
of sore towns. Short screws
do not follow the wrinkles of the time
and everything will be fake, but perfect.
Noone among you will have to face dark
what sun is not able to understand.