A song
in the river it is heard.
They reaped the wheat field
but from the spikes,
a song in the river is heard,
just a fire. A golden pass
by restless waters
to tame the memory
of the silent bodies,
falling continuously.
A song on the river sings
she sings to herself and says
you are going to look for me in the spikes
mowed?
My mother will show you where.
My mother covered in ash
open the book of life
and she hugs you
so you can listen to the song
that the river calms.
There is no revenge, there is love
and in the word love a tie knot
like an upcoming heart attack when
the day is coming.
Rip my heart out if i don't read
among the fallen the name of the children.
Do you remember that poem
where a wounded horse
knock on doors at night
asking for help?
The song will also knock on your door
and you will see her pass like a ghost
and where you feel a poem will grow
a tree, with the presence of the river,
who will speak the language of the
mowed ears.