I got through the pain to joy.
I knew the pain that the soul exists.
Pain, sad beyond my realm,
a mysterious dawning sun.
The morning was cold joy
and crazy and warm wind that charges.
(Alma saw that green springs
it broke beautifully. )
So I feel it more. I pointed to the sky
and answer me when I ask
with pain after pain for my wound.
And while my head lights
I pray for the sadness I have been in
divinities of life.
Author of the poem: José Hierro