Sin Final Poem by Samuel Santana
Sin Final
El cielo de mi patria es tan
blanco y azul como la
nieve y el mar.
Bajo su techo vuelan los
pájaros y entona el viento
la canción de los recuerdos
en las soleadas hondonadas.
Pero hay unas manos que
contaminan el paisaje,
rompen las flores,
marchitan la paz,
esconden el trigo y
encadenan las sonrisas.
Lo peor de esa primavera
oscura es que no veo
su final.
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6/26/2026 3:38:43 AM # 1.0.0
The sky of my country is so White and blue as the Snow and sea. Under their roof fly the Birds and tones the wind The song of memories In the sunny hollows. But there are some hands that Pollute the landscape, Break the flowers, Wither the peace, Hide the wheat and Chain the smiles. The worst of that spring Dark is that I do not see its end.