Los siguinentes serán en castellano.

(I swear it if´s necessary)
Crozenere,

Let’s pray to the Rain’s Goddess
Here am I, hidden and sick,
Amongst the thirsty sand,
Suffering your pitiless indifference,
A dusty sycamore’s shadow, tied to..
Whilst my eyes expecting are
To you, new rainbow of the thirsty land…

At the no name fields..
No gardens, no vineyards
No grapes, no roses
No harvest, no crops,
corollary yield.
No wheat’s heaps,
No bread, no milk
Myriads of famished beings
No meadows, just
Narrow lanes against
the green Wet Land.
Just forgotten graves…
a pair of thirsty wells…
no orchards, no hems
No garbage, no eggs.
Even not working wills.
Just legions of fat flies,
Nesting at the children eyes s
Just illness and dead…
Nobody shall drill the needs
Of water sources indeed
Within deep sand’s holes..
Just the sardonic sound of wind
Shacking old warriors with
Wounded bodies, empty mouths
The Kingdom of Nemesis, the
Arbitrary judge., revenge

Is deeding steel… by
Her hypocrite Hand.

Amongst the Warlords,
Drill men and ravens,
A merry brotherhood,
At all the noise of cries
Just their crocodile tears
To irrigate the scrap’s orchards
Were the children play
The lonely sycamore…..
… and the emptiness felt

Whilst my eyes expecting are
Chained, at sycamore’s
Holiness shadow,
By the hungry ants
Bitted and swallowed
A new Mosses, shall come
Throughout by the Nile’s junks
Pharisees might make
A new Holly Wood with
its branches, two just.
A New Golgotha, Advent.
Darwin’s Lordship might bring.