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The black tears of the earth run

Between the sobs of the funeral of the world

And the winds loaded with moans

Between acid memories of yesteryear, like today

In the howl of the inquisition, in the nuclear breath of desolation

In the clash of swords, in the thunder of cannons

In the fire that devastates the fields, in the plague that eats away at the beasts

Black spring musty; blackened eternal winter

The cry that decorates the gray skies

Between the wounds of the firmament

And the mourning that blackens my soul

Between the crystals of past memories

In the twilight of victories, in the glory of starvation

Between mountains of mud and silt, between stones, bones and feces

In the night sky illuminated, by the angels who anticipate the end

Withered gloomy spring, it is the perpetual funeral of the world.