We were forced to see the stars, under the vault of the sky of awake summer
Our children hid in quaint cottage trenches
Jovial, bright burning their flowers
Morbid and miserable perishing to the scent of youth and sound of guns
Thus, a brother lives in the south trench
The sister bends the steel and makes guns for fun
The youngest makes a wild gesture at heavens
The illuminated son comes on the horizon

Hugged by a valley and mink
Pushed into swarms of pink people
In Mediterranean waters, one can feel their warmth and rose sands too
Spread across their skin of nakedness and salinity
Like the Biblical flood that carries shipless waves
That takes away the verdigris moss too
A chorister in the sky sings to open skies of music and staves
Soon, the children of Gods will capsize as ships do

Intoxicated by orchards of red and blue
They trespass the general's chateau
The golden leaves fall, with a crackle and reddish rust in the wet trough
Trees lose their ****** and flare
Abandoning all doves and their penumbra and shadow
Wondering what is ruined, in a hungry fatigue
The children leave their hiding spot, unawate
Only waiting for the bird to tell them to get away

It is time to run from the past
The stars will die and this Earth shall cry
Soon, the war will be over
The flowers will burn with a prudery
As petals curl inwards and hover
After a while no one will feel the humidity
I am still throw pebbles and stones across the road
On the general's chateau
Like Apollo's arrows