Time
Gets used to it
Being alert
There is no light
That cannot resist
the blind night
Already the rose
Loses its scent
And the color red
The flower falls
From the orange tree
To the uncertain grave
Soft water
Blessed water
Fresh mountain range
Wash the tongue
Wash the mud
Wash the war
It's time
Get used to it
deep grave
Already has a bed
And a grave
The whole earth
Nor the flight
From the milano
To the east wind
Nor the route
From the seagull
To the north wind
Not all
The strength of the cloth
All year round
Breaks the bow
More strong
Not even death
The world already
If you don't remember
Songs
So much sand
So much dirt
Weed< br/>Nowhere
Open door
The moon arrives
The flower falls
From the orange tree
To the uncertain grave
Nor the flight
From the mile
To the east wind
Not the route
of the seagull
to the north wind
Not all
the strength of the cloth
all the year
Breaks the bow
of the strongest
not even death
Among the villages
And the walls
Of the moirama
On the cob
And on the straw
That spills
On the waves
On the beach
It's already time
Loses speech
And loses the laughter
Lose love

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