The Mourning Dove

He met with her, when the sun burning him into ashes, as he mourned for his broken wings,

He rose with a rainy day, when he bore all the pains he could take, and he was healed,

He fell in love with an angel dove, a sweet smile he could remember, a glance of stare he could see,

He looked for her every day, in trees and leaves, in sunshine and darkness, in sleepless dreams.

She became of his heart, when she flew with her little wings, where he felt alive, he could breathe,

His color is black; it turned into red, the color she searched for life, the love of her life,

She came to his dreams, when she sang a song for him to asleep, the song of two souls,

Her color is pink, it turned into rosy blue purple, the color he is alive, and the rain of his life.

She is his angel dove, her wings shine when she flies, the light become his attraction,

She dreams of him, when she calls his name, he became her shadows with the wings of his heart,

He looks at the dark red rose, the only rose of his love, wish she blooms with her beauty,

He is the mourning dove, he calls by her name, until he finds her, forever for love and life.



Searching you, between the two eyes,
Your smiles, where it takes me towards you,
Into the red and blue roses, a silence in night, another heart…

Showers of clouds,
Songs of poems,
Gentle winds of sea sides
And lights of evening stars
Become one…

Into the hundred crowds,
Seeing you like a dead soul of an alive spirit
A day waking me up when you touch me…

More I live

More I live, more I am giving pain

No more sleeping or dreaming,

More I live, more I am thirsty

No more breathing or nebulizing.

More I live, more I am talking

No one else, just angel of darkness,

More I live, more I am dying

No hope remains, only a paralyzed parasite.

More I live, more I am going blind

No sources of vigor or light,

More I live, I am become alone,

No feelings of senses or silence.

More I live, I am on the way

No more homes,

More I live, more I am not a body

No more fight.