At the bottom of the sea, there are white terrors, Where the plants are animals And the animals are flowers.
A silent world that does not reach The agitation of the waves. Opening in laughter, round shells, The seahorse sways. An octopus advances In the disorder Of its thousand arms, A flower dances, Spaces vibrate without noise.
Upon the sand, time alights Light as a handkerchief.
But no matter how beautiful each thing is, It has a monster within it suspended.