From the most remote times
the guardian angels fly,
always jealous of their votes
against abuses and excesses.
Next to the children's cribs,
together the sad dying,
tell that the Gentiles watch
beings with wings from another world.
When this angel crosses the sky,
there is nothing that resembles it.
The end of your hurried flight
It is the sentence of a heretic.
Do not get distracted or delay,
everything is now inopportune.
Goes to the field of flowers
where the fire awaits Bruno.
An angel of height is thrown,
Free fall that gives cold.
The order of his headquarters
is to descend to Two Rivers.
It's 19 and also May,
foam mount and mother saw,
when another angel on horseback
falls with the poor of the earth ?.
They say that on the edge of the one
a compassionate angelfish
pas? in front of the moon,
flying over the olive trees.
And they tell that with bad ma? A
his fan was shot,
just at the time that in Spain
Federico was killed.
A beautiful arc? Angel flutters
next to a large iron bird.
See that a man sees it
to drive away a hundred thousand exiles.
But the archbishop is suffocating
and a blue wing is hurt
and the black bird opens its mouth
when they go through Hiroshima.
Leaving a luminous groove
over Memphis, Tennessee,
pas? flying fast
a winged being in frenzies ?.
I was dressing in mourning,
the cherub was crying
and was counting the minutes
of God and Martin Luther King.
The angel passes under a bridge,
then it surrounds a skyscraper.
Central Park, full of people,
he does not realize his flight.
How much utop? To be? broken
and how much imagination
when at the door of the Dakota
The bullets knock John down.
September still?
its double chilling balance.
Everything happens the same day
thanks to a similar hatred.
And the same angel? in Chile
he saw bombing the president,
see the two towers with their thousands
falling unforgettably.
Desperate, the cherubs
they take the heavens of the earth
and with its cloud pencils
they paint good-byes to wars.
The world fills the balconies
and exclaims at last: this is my fight,
but the Lord of the canals
He does not look at the sky or listen to it.
Poor the urgent angels
that never come to save us.
?Be? who are incompetent
or that there is no way to help us?
To avoid more pain
and psychoanalyst accounts,
let's be a better
and much less ego?
Only among all we can make this a better place :)