From the seeds of the soul
I would like billions of pigeons to be born
with olive branches in their beaks.
To fly over prison walls,
on shattered bomb fields,
among the windows of hospitals.
To show to every great man,
But to be seen by the soul
from childhood.
Make him smile by recognizing me
And to say:
"Is not good as it is,
in the name of your memory
I should fight for the better ”.