GREAT SOUL IN MY COUNTRY 2 © 2008
My race is to be within the theory of feeling,
In the condition of a poet, following four souls,
Penalised in suffering, wandering in darkness,
It is to always be the word in motion, in an eternal procession.
Scattered in the moment, carried by the wind,
In the obligatory departure of fate, in torment,
To always suffer for still being a child,
Wearing new boots, in hope of the divine.
Given at Christmas, by a distant relative,
Who, due to marital differences, was never present,
It is to be all that was not said,
For the lack of memory, the damned anxious forgetfulness.