SONNET

Earth no more the sky of Medina!
Almost dust the most beautiful factory!
Smoke just the brightest spark!
And even the most strange light and shadow!

Nothing! Nothing! But where is it headed
impatient the pain with the complaint,
out of nowhere you see, if it is already in it
human faith the hope of divine?

Signs her death gave, which argue glory:
Then in this of all envied
by pity, by reason a way has to be found

to exchange memory wisely,
the earth, dust, smoke, shadow and nothing,
in heaven, in rain, in light, in air and everything.