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Escuro (ingles vers.)

Tags: endless eye
By Dan Cilva

Once again he was conjured ...
The world is not beautiful and
People are false.
All this reflects on the detail of
There is the Endless night of space.

Cold, like that silence
Where we swallowed the words.
It hurts the serrated teeth in the voracious mouth
Who yearns for the truth.

The irrevocable irrefutable fact that
I need you to go out again,
That walks among the living and
Seek your lies like this
As it was with Job.

Semen strips the veins of the earth and
From the eyes of the lost child inside.
Pull down my flesh robe to the ground and
Recovers a new man,
Plus a young man who must chase the old man languishing
With the now between the legs of the muse.

Shredded memories,
Together in a thin quilt of fragile memories,
Done here in some endless corner.
It turns the wheel of life and it comes, the dark.

Preaching the pain of men, the dark.
Laying their heads full of guilt in the dark.
Plunged into their futile fantasies,
Caught up in the infamous idea of ​​borderline reality, of the dark.

He shouts, wants to come up, tell everyone that there is no escape,
That even at the door of the end everything begins again ...

He comes, whispering in a multitude of voices
That everything is lost, that there is no hope.
My eyes were already swollen from crying.
By the inconceivable truth, unacceptable,
They glimpse the endless black, the cold, the profane ...
In the dark.

This post first appeared on Contos À Espreita, please read the originial post: here

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Escuro (ingles vers.)


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