stand like shining armor ready
to fight
in the midst of fate; arm with nothing, than
a scabbard of strength
tie with cowardice belief
with the hands open and the mind
is in doubt
the pendulum arm touches the time
and push it back letting the tears fall into the
ground where darkness unfold
the night with
naive prostration
clever as it is, coolness surround the
atmosphere until humid of hope embrace the
trembling arm with sword
ready to fight with determination even blood
has to shade and it course; as the body looks on
to my check with tears falling me apart to lost
the prize has to take each day as the moment
witness
the shame that conquer my pain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem