Cortando camino

The sky is a poncho full of stars,
the night is the sorrow that envelops my soul,
my horse, the dream that seeks the trace
of that little girl who stole my calm.
My fever travels different paths
and the search is useless in the four winds,
my sweet hope was broken by destiny
entangling the lasso of my feelings.

Like an ox pulling
whipped and sad
chewing on the weight
of its enslaved life,
while the yoke
claws into it
and the brute fatigue
shows in
its drool...

So I go chewing,
while cutting through the field,
the craziest desires
to find her one day,
to see again
on her pretty face
that good laugh
I so desired...

If it's sad at night to feel the owl
hooting its omen of death and ruin,
more sad, damn it!, is when the