The children of the stones
Happiness is an abandoned olive tree
that hangs from the top of a teardrop.
The summit is a plundered girl,
a brief dove that sighs.
A tear is a furrow in the gaze
of children without hope.
Hope is a broken doll
in the hands of cruelty.
The doll is a closed school
that has no windows.
School is a deserted dovecote
with axes in their boards.
The Earth is rotating
loaded with slaughtered pigeons.
In its bloody turn
a star wades through the morning,
And on that day, happiness dried all her tears,
and the doll is the girl,
and the girl is a hand,
and the hand a dove,
and the dove a house,
and the house a window
populated by green children
with illuminated stones.
The Children of the Stones by Antonio Frias | Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
20,00 US$Precio
