where it does not reach the freshness of the day,
Air wedding with violet cup
Twilight, there, my love, we should not do the
bonfire;
Not where they call you without spirit
or where I name me without a trace,
if the storm is not enough, its fertile aroma, its mature smell,
My love, there will not come on
the bonfire;
where your singing is not the humble maturity of the lightning
where rice fish the wine are fables of winter
where the Land of Ambrosia that we step on does not open jubilant
At your pace and mine, my love, definitely there
You will never burn our bonfire;
before the hands of the centuries that they have maculated everything
Before the mouths without mercy that phagocyte colors and virtues
before those who expect crocked at the end of any bend
The minimum opportunity to do the war;
We oppose our bonfire, just like that.
where you open your eyes and water is the sweet herald of the landscape,
There I will remain, burning candles.
where my heart can undress without fear of being offended
There, my love, burning with alive call the candles.
where love lift the blood from the blood of days and nights
so that we join her own tenderness,
BRANGE BRISE, BIRD, MISS, CHARM GROUND IN THE INTERMITE,
there, my love, will be worth it, then yes
Make the bonfire.