ICARUS
He opened his wings and took off in the afternoon.
The weather had predicted rain,
And the rain fell furiously on the plain of his heart.
An overdose of fantasy is easy to cure,
As fantasy transforms itself in his polished stone,
Dreaming high until the inevitable fall,
Toughness of the dreamer who never wore a helmet
Trying hard in dreaming is futile,
With a spasm he jumps and wakes up scared.
Entrance through the doors of the palace,
Comfort lost in a cloud of smoke.
Playing Russian roulette with his love,
Bang, the fantasy becomes reality
And the fall is free into the abyss.
Poor devil, unwise pride, old fool,
Beautiful flower crushed in his hand,
Piercing sensation, burning soul,
When he thinks of all those moments.
The sky has fallen tonight,
But he is sure it will be fine tomorrow.
Fernando Jarabo y Lorenzo