Cultura Profética - Para estar (Acústico Clásicos Fusileros)
We live near a silent mountain.
leave home to see her with a submerged cap at its peak.
There is a beautiful vision in his silent language.
Every morning I walk towards her, from her skirts
A green apron and shy.
It’s like feeling a shout ascending by the echoes of their caves.
It’s Sunday morning
No one wakes up, and listen to their synthesized sounds.
its murmur at me as a human signifier.
I follow with my eyes until they crash at the height of the trees.
I imagine it would sound like my body when colliding with rocks or
Take shelter in the shadow of the solemn trees.
in its hidden dirt track roads,
Grapnel my incognito under his immense silence ancestry,
Wherever awaits the eternal silence
There to promote safe with you.
Literatura y Poesofia.
La galería de saul.garca en Flickr.