walk on hot coals
the soul is hanging by a thread.
Without words, without sounds
crossed the desolate abyss.
From my wings torn off,
of my sword that has fallen
of my being angelic
has been
absorbed in the Road .
That has become gloomy
my song
and if singing , delirium.
In fact so well
has been
my poor broken heart.
I bandaged eyes,
I have sewn their lips
not to howl my tears
the cries of fate.
ominous bird passed
covering with his feathers
the road.
Road toads and snakes,
sterile colors and lilies,
dry clay soil that is party ...
wake up in a crying,
how sad that was
see in such desolation
to that fallen angel ...
July 2010 
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