O lobo

For a night of centuries
three fierce hounds were running,
three fierce hounds of the night
sharp as arrows.
A wolf with eyes of fire
was advancing behind them;
it carried light in its eyes,
a light of long-awaited days.
Entering the land of dreams,
the dreams were singing;
Run, wolf of hopes,
jump over walls and fences,
let those three hounds of the night
become defeated and enslaved.
With a bridge of light, the stars
shone with new strength;
the hounds were running well,
but the wolf was enraged
and in a corner of fire,
he took them down with three slashes.
And the rivers sang in chorus
a song never sung before,
the horizon opened in melodies
with a clear knife-like cut,
and the sky was once again
a blue and whiter sky.