In the sandbox of the swallows there are sons of the Virgin everywhere on the perimeter and in the openings there are rays of light and knots of shadow for the children of the round their hands digging in the dust of angels with tangy scents .
In the sandbox of the swallows there are images of Epinal over the blond heads so that the fast-flying bird grab it for a few signatures further on scratch the azure and deposit at the pediment of the houses the dancing farandole .
In the sandbox of the swallows there is gold under the sand and the roots of the tree in joy sink in abundance myriad colored dots on the faces of the children of the city kept awake by the piercing cry of the migrant .
In the sandbox of the swallows there are plastic armchairs hurt by time than the puddle of rain deposited on the white table make each other look graceful passage from the swallow to the bath droplets and feathers mixed near the playful child .
