Over time and distance
feel a ring of drums
that flutter in my mind,
like spirals of smoke, they want to hug ...
but ... when I let him do a somersault
insinuating ... away.
Tam tam tam, tum tum,
tam tam tam, tum tum ...
grandparents are the choir, with the light
drum
come and caress the earth with his compass.
Oh, tam tam tam, tum tum,
tam tam tam, tum tum ...
ComunĂquenme the "beyond",
that the "here" ... shall tremble.
For my dead can not rest ... until we crack
silence
and history, our history ...
can tell.
Lucia Dominga Molina
0 comments:
Post a Comment