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Martes, 20 de octubre de 2020

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The Penguins' Transition

 

Keep warm my voice, my dearest alien

In this peninsula corpses were silenced.

The King Penguin casts wounds into oblivion,

And their Rose since then is cut into the middle.

 There people like to drink the drug of Ghostly World,

Smoking promises of freedom being just Animal Farm's tools.

Transition of  past Pride to  Democracy mask

Where those past Penguins still raise their right arm.

Oh, Lullaby! Where have Thou been hidding?

Penguins know nothing about life, but to dive into the seas

Collecting food for another piggybank's session.

Penguins just want then to stop wonder,

Freedom and Justice are words humbled into idioms.

Rights have become the Bible of those without faith,

Where that ridiculous mineral has nothing to do with it.

This warble is a hope of a hopeless almost bird,

Rocked in the 20th of November early morning.

Even if it hurt them thirty five years have past

And at their throne remains the same paricide Pinguins.

Keep warm the cries, my dearest descendent,

In this peninsula Byron's dying.

The King Penguin devoured the last innards of dreams,

And since then our Rose is rotten in one of the middles. 

 

Vanora Miranda 

 

 

Género al que pertenece la obra: Poesía
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Comentarios - 1

Alexis

1
Alexis - 23-11-2013 - 17:22:00h

Nos encantan tus obras.A ver si nos vemos por tu cumpleaños, besos. Irene y Alexis


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