(Tango)
A chorus of evil faces ...
I say, with your finger.
A merciless "Tribunal" in my dreams,
She was was very hurt.
They are the vicissitudes of life,
for leaving her ...
Miserable story of the great theater,
we fixed the destination.
Now those faces are judging me,
With forecast of "fire" ...
But I have a thousand "buckets" of fresh water ...
To apagarme in my scaffold.
The verdict is hiding in my subconscious ...
And I suspect.
As time goes by,
Mistakes, grow, knowing that it's late,
I do not pray or beg ...
those "Inquisitors" who do not know,
That my soul is at auction ...
And that mistake ... burns.
As the "raw random" always lends you a "card"
while you, sorry to see the "as" righteous ...
I'll play without hesitation,
in the changing reality ...
It is impossible, you will not go wrong again ...
Like everyone else, which suffer ...
It is a symbol that "court" ...
and to us, compels us, "the game" ...
A "ghost" especially trivial ...
Anda hanging around my dreams ...
I inquired with a mountain of guilt,
While , I'm sitting on the "bench" ...
I just hope ... a comfortable "cell" ...
To leave me ... even ... meditate ...
Daniel H Guasti
pisulinoal@yahoo.com.ar
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario