Specular shadow (English version)

In the black and white of my lights and shadows, the glass is poured on the uncountable hours above the irregular soil. Just a few minutes before dusk the sky is falling and I don’t want to watch it. What displeasure the taste of broken wings, after continuous crashes against the window where you poke out. Wanders the distance, restless, from horizon to horizon, before that bronze dawn that hides between your legs. The extended avarice on the bed, it spills over the edges, and with wounded conscientious hands you gather all up not to taint with the black and white of my lights and shadows that, at the end, they are the one you know.