In those dark days of the season winter, those enlightened by the light of the full moon and try to be a new beginning for the misguided souls who light up. Way listening to the cry of the wind that brings the sonata of my steps, do not think much about my surroundings if but darkness is the light sprinkling of small electric lamps, cold crystals and damp on the walls of natural bridges in the style of paving stones and cement. Sigh wearily to see how it breaks from time to time the monotonous melody of the wind and the cracking of any accumulation of water in the soil. Each time the steps are faster while the melody reaches prestissimo tempo, trying not to succumb to an Adagio tempo, occasionally carried away by the sound of the city and becoming lively.
Occasionally see some light from a window off while listening to someone wanting a good night. Pursued by the oppressive shadows of my tears made to run in any direction in search of something that I do not know is. Attempt to find that the wind rose to guide my steps in that insolent darkness of my heart. Although I still wonder where I will guide my compass.
already tired of my tears are lost in the air, I pause to see where my feet ended. There I am surrounded by the darkness of feathered black with blood red eyes and forgotten old rocks with inscriptions worn by the passage of time. I approach one of those memories that now reside at the bottom of memories of others and say "good night" and I lean on it.
From now on, my body will be bathed in eternal light of the full moon and the countless flakes of the season winter, here in the eternity of the night covered by a black cloak of feathers and guarded by small eyes, wishing someone good night for all that you subtract the immortality of my soul.
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