viernes, 16 de mayo de 2014

The storm


Children playing down the storm,


and a grey voice emerges from the clouds.


My hands shake many droplets


as separating my head with them.


One boy took a girl near the mountain.


He kissed her, he touched her.


Neither sadness nor suffering


are a scream of death at this moment.


Both are young lovers beneath the storm.


Two little lovers facing the fury

of a cloudy fate... down... down...

on this Earth.



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