La Cuna Del Sol

Nothing is more perfect
than my soul among your suns,
there is no more anger if I have
my greatest weakness,
a personal autumn.
A death rally
another funk for your teeth
a shameful war
you will fall behind my back.
I know you can't scream.

I know you are
obligated to this world,
such an absurd heartbeat
and always steps away from exploding,
you have already descended, like stars fall,
so I ask for three wishes, maybe one will come true.

More tears than sorrows,
more steel than wood
and the plague evolves, new forms, new evil,
so present and unnoticed.

Sources without coins,
another mother still waiting,
the kiss of those who dream,
without fear of waking up,
the morning will heal.

I don't want panic to kill you.
Far from being an abyss
between what I live today and what you will see.
Below will always be the cradle of the sun.