SIX CROWS AND A NIGHTINGALE

I

Monserrat, the ship of the souls,

leaved the sea... the ghosts,

on a windly late of scares…skinny candies.

Giants masked with gloves,

saying good bye, glancing me off, under a grayly cloud,

february thirteen…the first of the lucky number, 
disconcert, fears, four years tainted,

my harbor of tears,Tenerife.

The concert of sorrows began, 
in minor b sustained,

were are we going mom?, asked the astonished child,

to the breeder of ravens, the old man,

with me…his crazy goat, your mother boy!.

no, no, I´ll cry!... then cry… I got enough from you!

concert of whistles from the heart,

embraced to the hiss, of an armored white,

crossed by a darkgreen stripe,

treaded upon the riches,

converted in my roof.

dancing behind their steps,

a tango and an oldy vals

sailed the last of six,

the fly of the final crow,

flew ahead five, on feders of slowly flaps,

leaving behind the stand,

a nightingale bright…and slept.

eight days of hiddings.

to reveal do not the soul,

at the sites of the poors,

where riches do not aproach.

walking on creeps outside…under tables.

crushed middle by the petulant fat.

glancing the fly of riskless fish,

tasting the air at the free.

cries on the knees of the raven.

I could see the feders in black…macabre tansformation,

changing the plumes of the charm.,

those of the nightingale.

the first of the crows, nailed his beak on the eye,

tainted of bloodly hate, the cheek of the sadly man.

wanted to kill his blood.

the stab of the male, first strike of the traitors,

the second of the males, nailed his beak, 
in the other eye, little old with no eyes,

leaving his love alone, dying of pain his soul.

the women in black, thought behind and betray.

the effort of the years, that with loved were taken care,

breed crows and wait, your eyes be took away.

ambitions with no limits, by four capricious dimes,

I shall dig under the stand, I shall glance the nightingale,

I shall rinse the ashes,

of its feders... by the waves.