Every shout  a drop of blood squirting from the twisted veins
the destiny’s road opens to another quite unknown corner
Every shout stifled by heartbeat  of silence holds a desire to cut
the uneaten loaf of heart their ears are deaf,  a head of stone
a body of wood, fingers of clay that have forgotten how to clasp a flower
or rise a hand in protest, music that has become air settles down at the navel of midnight
it’s an angel singing to closed windows and doors only the leaves and grasses of
the earth responds with daybreak the lips the nose, the hands the limbs the eyes
awakened  the air lost its music the angel is only a love disowned
by both the lover and the beloved