Raw poetry that speaks of loss. The autumn of a broken country, where even the pigeons of the squares have been disappearing. The relationship between: hero - nation - hunger is interesting.

The senses are shaken
for the sad song of the pigeons
asking for corn
with bony figure,
mirror of the nation.

Decadence without saviors, no breakthrough is glimpsed. There is a kind of conformity with the decline. Only contemplation of the slow fall of the robust tree that was a rich country, now plunged into misery.

A whirlwind of dry leaves
falls from the trees
by a spectral air
in the shade of the feet
of the hero.

Good writing, brother! Quite descriptive and heartfelt.