Grief to Obscuro

Awakening the rage from black rays of hate

the years form the season of my existence

were entombed into dreams of winter whispers into their cold hands the day will drown

within the falmes of the awakening rage.

Seduced for caress of bitter winter whispers

the winds of reality change to freeza snow

as cold as my death feelings

The ruins of the fountain where seeds of life born

with the wind is gone though the gates of words

written in poemas of views from the awakening rage

Whispers of winters poems

The forzen light enlights me

this kingdom of solitude shines in black

this unanimated atmosphere dominates me

a so sadly landscape lifeless in sorrowin hate

take my hand

From the sounds of northern skies

the expression in an ilussion of sun burned in snow

I hear the voices that sacrifices

I'm seated in my throne of silence, in solitude

and with my herat under the ground I'm crying

I will never see the winter whispers end

I would like to see with death

resting in my eyes

Dreams consume me, please tell me more

I want to know

I am waiting to be eternal shadow

I was who awakes the rage

to destroy the fountain

where the deeds of my life were born

because I hate, and I suffer

Look the landscape with sunshine

Look the landscape with moonshine

Sunshine, moonshine

Just I create

This poem in my grief

to her the whispers and

always sleep in winter

and like a star my soul would shine

between the sun and moon between the same

red sky...