The roof of grey clouds meant disaster.
It was her time to ride better winds, hotter
She always had confidence in that matter.
Her guts had sensed the storm far sooner,
She just denied the obvious for too long.
The future is not so uncertain outcome
To those who can hear how the son sings.
Time entangled around an event, some
Try to obstacle, everyone fails for no cause.
Treads of the kind have killed and saved
Whatever way the minions behaved,
Because we only see on the shoulders
Of the known giants, illusive, bewildered
No love of mother, no pain of sister, Mr.
Bitterness is as certain as some showers
As happiness must we never empowers.
Wasted land without dust in her hand
She turned to more productive, pleasure thoughts.
What is by some way locked, closed will stay, understand,
it is no truisms around.
Those, us, that dream with unicorns,
No olvidemos Machado en su síntesis
\"Caminante no hay caminó,\"
Así ella, píes de velludo, entró en la tierra desolada,
no es lo sueño acordado que talla el mundo? si huevera uno
porque no lo altero para mejor? O no....
Los cielos de piedra gritaran en unísono.