Moon between clouds, Flowers in the wind

In the little exasperations of the daily life

The moments ocillates in the moon's condolences

That mouns a discontinuous melody

In a moment sliced by the lonely flowers

Strolling passionatelly, guided by the wind

Intruding themselves in the eternal gleam

Of the clouds twisted, becoming engravings

Of the feelings that intertwines the existence and the time

And then the conjecture of these unusual falsetto,

Scattered notes, mists, arias, ethereal drippings

Old religions, bitter inspirations and gnawed arpeggios

Are an gift that Existence presents with sinister bouquets

The time who followed that caress of the flowers

To the moonlight blissful, that involved that rotten love

This doom evidenced by life and its many colors.

By: Bruno