Enclosed in an old black cage suspended
In the middle of a sterile mind
Far and distorted, thousands, one on top on the other
We are (slowly) suffering under the weight of our fellow beings
Wet from the never-ending rain of lies from him
Whom from time immemorial has promised;
On the iron, the rust of our tears is mixed
With the bitter-sweet and dark blood
In the darkness, the strong wind of hope is mistaken
For the sighs of him
Who is closer to us
An Old Black Cage
In which iron screeches on the bones
The cage moves by the smallest contractions (of the muscles)
While the bodies are mingled with their own pain
And in the bliss of those
Who are finally getting closer to the truth
And by freeing a space give yet another breath
Falling in the deep pit of knowledge
After every instant, he goes
Back to the starting point
Trying to perceive his destiny
Imploring hope to show
Through the old bars of a tired world
The universal focal point (to which everyone is hanging)
The eyes are raised once again
To look for the end of the thick rope
Which sold its origins to credulity and submission
An old black cage in which iron screeches on the bones
Those who try to run away
Between the bars are crushed like food
Between the jaws of a beast