Angel Caído

I see in the brush
yellowish light, that of coffee
Country airs that breathe canvases and paper
Alcohol lamp
quiet star of your room
"...The sky with hands"
ceased to be an expression
Hidden behind the sunflower
nests a dream of helplessness
Guilty and faithful to your pain
Violated by the fallen angel
living in the brush
Combing wheat, tearing skin
Painting self-portraits
and thus being able to know oneself
Son of color
that drowned his own voice in silence
Lord of the world in which you and I live today
Hidden in lantern shadows
the conscience stirs darkly
Guilty, faithful to your pain
Violated by the fallen angel
living in the brush
combing wheat and tearing skin...