Luca Flauto's poem opens with a shrug at the unpredictable weather: sunshine one day, heavy rain the next, April behaving like a joker. The mistral wind then takes over, shaking the blossoms and leaves and, in a striking line, strong enough to break the speaker's lips but not strong enough to heal their pain. That small admission hints that something hurts beneath the cheerful surface.
The mood shifts when a "you" takes the speaker's hand, making them blush, and leads them to a park. There they sit by a lake, watching the water change from blue to grey, with the old bench reflected on it like a mirror. The two look into each other's eyes and feel the urge to jump into the lake, though choosing is hard. The ending calms everything down: water and sky merge into one, hugging in pure freedom. The poem moves from restless weather and pain toward a quiet, tender sense of closeness and release.