Gone are the days on the race
When the hades threatens
Hiding comotion in a case
With hope intents
Caution spoken
On the broken wall
Tears broken
On the solid war
These are the relics of history
Longing for the glory
Perhaps from a boat
On tempestous sea
Without a rudder afloat
None to see.
Like volcanic eruption
Aiming the celestial
Freedom of redemption
With cherubims of terrestial
A pentecost of the apostolic
That builds a bridge
On which catholic
Paves for the siege
Spread outside the tent
For the resolute
Available to be rent'
In lineage of a prostitute
Built for three decades
Destroyed in three minutes.
What a good mourning
For those forgotten
The begining of another journey
For the bones seen rotten
Many apartment exist
Many are called
Yet without an exit
A crown on record
Only for those with violence
For the few chosen
In home of no turbulence
Plants of the sand of time written
What a holy thing
Bred in a dirty vessel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem