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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