jueves, 2 de mayo de 2013

Moves the wind

Moves the wind

Moves the wind the herbs of the Way
Twelve breaths the passions of the pilgrims.
Treads the walker the hard stones,
looking for the landmarks
you will stir up the emotions.

The sun's rays are smoked in the clouds
words deaf blind hearts.
The sweet trill of the nautical bird
resembles angelic singing
that opens the eyes of the blind pilgrim
and haven of infinite peace offers.

The wind moves the leaves on the trees
and everything else is useless.
It is only walking,
see the flowing water thick night 
and call.

Un poema de mi libro Secreto canto de las luciérnagas.

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