I want to save words
but the night does not allow me,
the night that spreads
like an echo in the middle
of nothing.
A river of bright shadows
in memory, it drags you,
throbbing silence, relief
faithful that does not abandon.
Sleeping Birds Cathedral
tolling of bells at rest.
moon high bronze
of the domes.
Awakening of fireflies and violins
In the universe.
Nook of the wind in the shadows
of the old city, in cobwebs
of abandonment
A tap on the window wakes
resting pupils.
the night does not allow me
to abandon the impulsive scribe
from my hand, nor to the indomitable spirit
that haunts my universe.
The golden spikes are seen
with the illuminated scars of the sky,
...it rains on the dark roofs,
on the blind land.
the night does not allow me
that the mighty hand bends
to the generous heart, that fury
with a look it crashes into tenderness
of the eyes.
The deathly silence hurts,
before the need of man
a sign to show you the way
a small light of hope.
a helping hand.
the night does not allow me
don't write the words
that hurt me.