(English)

A sadly enchanting fate

_{Author: Hive account@nachomolina2}

Hand in hand
a flower
soon turned into tears,
subtle edge
the beautiful moments

moments,
how magical they play
the soul
with his sad hate
fallen from the sky

Not even a mirage
of the
that, recumbent,
keep them;

Not even so, my love!
would be comparable
its charm,
with your
light flash

Yours,
fulminant,
like at night
is he
torment

and the beating fury
that emanates
of you,
They are my eyes,
seeing her rock your hair

And beyond the sun
until the
last astral
it will be ours;

also, they will be covered
of glory
the dying edenes
what will we step on

and will not give
enough to understand
that with its beauty
a flower imitates,
barely,
your real mystery;

love cries
in the fields
and sad
the maiden's voice fertilizes
with its echo,

and drop
the perfumed buttons,
naturally,
in a song
Romantic

Sleepers in the silt
next to the heart
hurt,
where never
it had lasted so long
something so mine,

not even faith
neither a suffering
from those
infinities
that I have suffered

where not even sadness
of the camps,
nor the
fallen,
sad fates,

not even this withered flower
supervening
in a
very sad crying,

keep, reclining,
not even a mirage
that simulates
your real charm

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