The woman is gone...
She left the minute
She heard the war call...
The mother is gone too
With her baby all grow up
There is no need for a mom
The artist remain
She will write the chronicles
Of the war...
And the warrior will fight
To the end
With all her might.
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Breathing
I seat in here and I look at the sky So perfectly draw by the Artist The contrasting colors that blends Over the crystalline waters In this...
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I wish that your mornings Be bright, with clear skies That you walk in good paths And that you might have Many reasons to smile I wish that...
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son dos ventanas al cielo negro de tu alma...!
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Hence with each cloud that passes by Pass as well my life Playful little white Puffy bright running In a spring like sky...
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