Jingola Kingdom, a kingdom where everything is illegal.
And in this world mental hospital with millions of unemployed, the thieves, shavers speculators say that the world economy is to stabilize. It proves the ascent of the prices of the petroleum of that is. And nobody arrests them because no longer law exists.
In spite of the tired body, used, old for the years of the time, the mind is rejuvenated. The dictator uses the healthy body in the insane mind. As harmful plants that they vituperate the suspended gardens of this Babylonia. No matter how much we try didn't get to avoid the persecution of Robespierre. The reign of the Terror persists, it insists, he doesn't abandon us. That times these! No, the History teaches us that it was always like this. The human being is the symbol, the cult of the Terror.
When it ends, the Nature will rejoice, she will sing a praise hymn. The trees won't be static, they will move of one for the other side, as always they did. The rain will fall and the waters will follow her normal course. There won't be dikes to disturb them. To the rivers free from pollution they will return the fairies, and the spirits of the waters will be reborn. The Nature will meet again the freedom, it will return to the normality. It was already given to the human being the time more than enough to respect their fellow creatures. No, I don't refer to the men, because he enters these no there are laws that work, I speak about a simple bird that lowers her flight, he is with a biped one and it is abated without explanation. What is in cause is the following: the Nature cannot share her healthy existence, with vile beings that they are delighted in exterminating everything that moves.
I found the morning to middle in the wharf of Kapossoca. The sky forced the day to darken. The water deserted of the firmament and the horizon was foggy. Intense rain, centimetre, seemed millions of meteorites that opened transparent craters in the surface neptunium.
Will I get Tule to arrive?
Many dangers wait for me, but I will have success in this epic poem. When there to arrive will admire the Columns of Hercules in Viana. I don't know who was the purposed that he called such name to two immense garbage mountains.
For besides them he is the stranger… some Phoenician merchants that once in a while here arrive, they say that for there of the Columns of Hercules seventeen kingdoms exist, governed by praetor. The information that they give is very scarce. What is not known there happens.
In child he heard to talk about those ignored kingdoms, forgotten, abandoned. That nobody if it worried with them. I began to dream that they would be the lost continent of Atlantis.
So many cars for few made holes in highways, permanently bottled. I will never get to understand because it is that Jingola doesn't appreciate bicycles. They combine with the centuries, with the loads in the head without wheels, always to the wheel.
The heart of my spirit tries to free of the surrounding disorder. The garbage anger joins to the trees dropped by the inhuman force. The flowerbeds got lost in the imposition of the concrete construction sites, of the new builders beloveds. Other builders and many eaters of dogs, cats and of everything that moves. Rudimentary genetic weltanschauung, truncated.
The guideless years pass, no mandated continue the tyrants. Tell them that who annihilates a tree; it will be condemned to plant them to the end of his life.
Ah!.. Many banks, many financial, many corrupt, many speculators, many adventurers.
And in this world mental hospital with millions of unemployed, the thieves, shavers speculators say that the world economy is to stabilize. It proves the ascent of the prices of the petroleum of that is. And nobody arrests them because no longer law exists.
In spite of the tired body, used, old for the years of the time, the mind is rejuvenated. The dictator uses the healthy body in the insane mind. As harmful plants that they vituperate the suspended gardens of this Babylonia. No matter how much we try didn't get to avoid the persecution of Robespierre. The reign of the Terror persists, it insists, he doesn't abandon us. That times these! No, the History teaches us that it was always like this. The human being is the symbol, the cult of the Terror.
When it ends, the Nature will rejoice, she will sing a praise hymn. The trees won't be static, they will move of one for the other side, as always they did. The rain will fall and the waters will follow her normal course. There won't be dikes to disturb them. To the rivers free from pollution they will return the fairies, and the spirits of the waters will be reborn. The Nature will meet again the freedom, it will return to the normality. It was already given to the human being the time more than enough to respect their fellow creatures. No, I don't refer to the men, because he enters these no there are laws that work, I speak about a simple bird that lowers her flight, he is with a biped one and it is abated without explanation. What is in cause is the following: the Nature cannot share her healthy existence, with vile beings that they are delighted in exterminating everything that moves.
I found the morning to middle in the wharf of Kapossoca. The sky forced the day to darken. The water deserted of the firmament and the horizon was foggy. Intense rain, centimetre, seemed millions of meteorites that opened transparent craters in the surface neptunium.
Will I get Tule to arrive?
Many dangers wait for me, but I will have success in this epic poem. When there to arrive will admire the Columns of Hercules in Viana. I don't know who was the purposed that he called such name to two immense garbage mountains.
For besides them he is the stranger… some Phoenician merchants that once in a while here arrive, they say that for there of the Columns of Hercules seventeen kingdoms exist, governed by praetor. The information that they give is very scarce. What is not known there happens.
In child he heard to talk about those ignored kingdoms, forgotten, abandoned. That nobody if it worried with them. I began to dream that they would be the lost continent of Atlantis.
So many cars for few made holes in highways, permanently bottled. I will never get to understand because it is that Jingola doesn't appreciate bicycles. They combine with the centuries, with the loads in the head without wheels, always to the wheel.
The heart of my spirit tries to free of the surrounding disorder. The garbage anger joins to the trees dropped by the inhuman force. The flowerbeds got lost in the imposition of the concrete construction sites, of the new builders beloveds. Other builders and many eaters of dogs, cats and of everything that moves. Rudimentary genetic weltanschauung, truncated.
The guideless years pass, no mandated continue the tyrants. Tell them that who annihilates a tree; it will be condemned to plant them to the end of his life.
Ah!.. Many banks, many financial, many corrupt, many speculators, many adventurers.
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