Para Airyn

Hear
the cry of the strings

Wait

for the echoes time

Smell

the children’s breath

Hear

the pulse of the drums

and sincronize.

Follow with us

the swallow trail.

Follow with us.

Condors meet nightingales

tonight.

Do I believe in this?

They shall survive me.

My poetry is not soft enough,

just woeful, twisted,

lost in space and time –

but I  could sing,

(yes, I could)

with all of you

tonight.

(¡Muchas gracias y muchas enhorabuenas a todos!)

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