When the merciless hand of silence brushes,
touches the soul and snatches the words,
a herculean knot tightens our throat,
and inexorable devastation ties us up,
like a cage that spikes us with purulent thorns.
It infects daggers that let our mute rivers flow,
to fill our deepest angles with loneliness,
so our eyes are hollow,
the mouth dies,
the gaze never finds a mirror,
and the voice, wounded to death, sobs,
moans prayers for mercy,
distant and unattainable solace.
No words, delirium happens,
fierce ghost is the mourning,
cynical and sardonic,
... sew the mouths that speak,
with a rusty needle.
Skew the rumor,
cut to the murmur,
how silent and agonizing,
now, is bleeding to death.
Close the doors,
close the windows... and cracks;
buried and hopeless, we cry out,
but heaven has forgotten us,
No words, the world ceased to be world,
there are no arms to hold on to,
no dreams, no chimeras,
putrefaction emits its foul smell,
our voice devoured by worms,
down there, down below the earth,
where silence rests.