GREAT SOUL IN MY COUNTRY 1 © 2007

The tear has become physical,

And on my face it has taken root,

To be the roots of new valleys,

Where there will be no more.

Dark thoughts and deep ills,

Where life will flow in conversation,

Cast by my poet's gaze,

In an infinite cry thrown.

May you, soul in weeping,

Be the rebirth of desolate fields,

Where shadows fade away,

And the light of words becomes echoed.

May in the silence of the mountains,

Ancient pains dissolve,

And on the hills of my chest,

Hope blooms in a new form.

Each tear that has become physical,

Is now a seed of a future,

Where the poet's gaze projects,

A horizon of peace, pure and secure.

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