In the horizon, blood sunset
I hear a voice far
driven by the wind in the clouds,

between dream and reality in the invisible time
the contacts of the heart,
understand the incomprehensible

in torn scraps of bad words,
while the spirits are groping in the dark,
try to find a path

groping in the darkness
no longer have the joy that shines in your eyes,
and heart burn for the offenses.

But the sun is here ...
with its splendor, tender and compelling,
polite, courteous, kind, considerate,

caressing me with its breeze.

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