Crumbled walls.

January 11, 2018

I looked at the walls of my home,

if a strong time already crumbled

of the race of the tired age

for whom his courage already expires.

I walked to the field, I saw that the sun was drinking

the streams of ice,

and from the mountains complaining the animals

that with shadows stole his light.

I went into my house: I saw that she was defiled

of old room was spoils,

my staff more curved and less strong.

Overcome of the age I felt my sword,

and I did not find anything to put my eyes on

that was not a memory of death.

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