She goes down the road of ancient stone
with the gloom of their arcades,
and her giant feet or pillars
which extend with refractory shadows
and give color to the sound of a violin
that lightens his prayer without end.
One young lady pint
on the canvas an encounter,
she save in the beating of her eyes
he thirst for relieved creative source,
and when outside the soul dumped
provides in sweet cravings
her finished work
that transforms into a small bright star,
that illuminates my soul at rest
and that rub with the essence of the joyful
in a vibrate of spark of fire
of an icy feelings and ardent.
Continues road…,
And Says… a pilgrom
"who could sing like birds
would do well to fly like them";
well I play while the flute
to climb to the stars".
When se was giving the turn to the left corner
her view discover a wide square,
and in the middle a small crowd.
Metal sounds of busy life
leave step to the voice of a young man,
who is poetry of other poets.
And so pass the day
of one ordinary afternoon
a woman, a man…,
visiting the ancient stone
of art and its delivery.
xurxo fernandez gonzalez
