SOIL OVER THE UNDERGROUND FACES

Must the honor and work can be walking together, maybe it’s not possible
Or the circumstantial form of the taste of evil ways, the proclaimed taste
Can be the liberty over the soil of secrets mountains, of liberty of all the tastes
Maybe is not necessary this way, comrades, the same things that we are procedure
Can be solve the best things under the crystals or winter, or the germinate flower of hope…

Several ways separated me and my love, but she is the my love, comrades, and you know that
Because sometimes over the bed where I rest my tired body, where the command of my tired heard
Not necessary false and true of our circumstances avoid that me, and her, loved the surface of digital ways, and the true words change the thing possible!

When a man itself by own ways, only the property improbable or the incoming pass of made in your walking solitary by the rude streets
Take for the same man the comprehension of weapon of love, like a fight in your chest reconstructed
Because the poem is the same substance that put a infinity battery over you spiritual machine
And the subtract way of the humanity like a totality infer that a supposition make possible
Breath over the ocean of Nature and its wisdom or the way of transformation and alchemy historic from a soul of a same man
And his woman can be understand, finally, a real dimension, of his love for her...