Lump in one's throat

The center of the cold earth
Spring wakes up little by little
back to life. I jump
life of running shoes,
and despair to deport
I run a long run.
After the throat
seems still to rise,
as a tear, as the heart is.
Where men
are made, they are cast in
cold and relentless soul.
For others, men are divided into
also thirsty throat.

Are born innocent,
genes panache soon
stick fast
increasing shoes.

What is the human despair
to drive? Mothers tears in their eyes
cry, watching the children.