Scarlatina

How should this feeling be described;
how to be mentioned?
If this is what they call saudade,
ain't this voice passive in worth?
When will the piper play that shiny song again?

But if there's any...
How many words are the number that fits
in the tips of those fingers
while snatching a wind from the voice?

Walking on my empty nails,
stumbled down above the vault of sky
I fell then, but not now...
but still something died.
And not even a dark flower was enough
for my kind of funeral.

That flower, is silent too.