LAST CYCLE © 2008

Don’t speak to me of love, the universe moans in silence,

Holding its pain, kept in verse.

One day, in a throw, it will return,

To those who wounded it, to make them suffer in turn.

May they feel the piercing, not just in their shouting,

But in their chest, where the soul begins to crumble.

Here, the dreams of a whole nation fall,

In a weary tone, in an eternal song.

The refrain repeats itself, without a new direction,

The last century never considered such a condition.

The lack of communication, growing selfishness,

May a lightning bolt shatter this reason of blindness.

So, let the missing beam be shared,

To illuminate this planet that, little by little, is exalted.

It walks blind, on crutches of embarrassment,

By the difficulty of a simple embrace.

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