In that cinereous dawn, the vi walking with the broken heart around of its buildings in ruins of that old city. A quiet spectator observing its proper destroyed palace. Its desolate shouts silence changed back it. I could hear, feel, only acariciar its torn into pieces dreams already. My perpetual tears tore the skin in my proper desperation under of a rain of dead ideals and pieces of meaningless pride.
I observed its great defeat I enter the candy liquor of its proper poison. Blind person, lost in way its delirious illusion, its eyes of ambition had provoked the final war, its consumed buildings fall its feet between the torn flag and its destroyed empire. Ruins, this age its new temple! I deviated the look, incapable to support as much destruction. It had delivered my devotion to it, the lost Gloria of a shared dream. Its ideals had been pisoteados. Its had ahead abandoned deuses it of its decay, and between pain shouts, I extended the flag of the triumph, paid with tears the price of the victory. I left with soul in pieces and disappeared in the blackout, of where never I could return.