A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008
In the illuminated night, dreams,
That in childhood with cleverness,
Play freely in baths and snot,
Without haste, without weight, without sadness.
They do not doubt authenticity,
In the emotion of those who feel,
The living purity of freedom,
That arises in each innocent laugh.
And not even in dreams, does malice
Linger around in eagerness,
For far from its reality,
Is the register that ages childhood.
They are tender in age, immaculate,
In a dance with time in bloom,
Where the days are always enchanted,
And the world breathes only love.