Serene sky is eclipsed by a rum line,
a thin dark feather
with a ancient and impious sign,
scattering glitters of mystery
full of obscurity,
which broke the feeble mirrors
of our obstreperous lives,
a blend of chapped dreams and fears;
Tearing up the clouds, its shadow appears,
It’s a mournful sacred bird, a crow,
for which the time is broken,
we’ll be eternally gripped by its claws
in past, present and future,
…aside,
we listen unconscious three caws…

Somebody has died!