LOS HIJOS DE LA CUCHARA

“BODEGÓN CON FRUTAS” (Antonio Vicente)

He continues hiding the world
somewhere of its surroundings
his I slap constant
of modulated frequency.
But your you are in tune
the scents of the fresh leaves,
birches and strawberries
making gorgoritos in sun key.

The tozudes of the time
it snatches and it strangles
the linen cloths of the watery city
and the cold aroma of the death
it is wound quiet
by the winding stairs
of its spectral face.
In forecast to this
he will be better to make us zancos
of so many signs of admiration
in order to be able to flee
of that coarse reality.

Now it is when
the winds of the fortune
they try to hide
and to watch of I avoid
to the caidos ones of the hammock.

Of behaviors lards
foolish exclamaciones
rimbombantes preludes
solaza people

Autor: Edgar Molina

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