At the edge of the night my heart bleeds out
Scream like a convict in a cold cell
She trembles like a wounded bird before the death that awaits her
Gone are the days when she wrote verses and enjoyed writing them
In which she beat like a dark forest before the full moon
Now it is a tide of other people's blood that encloses it
A black sadness that hurts him
A knife of hours gone by threatens him with its edge
His tender flesh has grown stale and cold
He no longer wants the life that he leads
He resists the flame that animates him
That is why he flees in terror from himself
Now he only seeks the rest located on the other shore
The white and lost loneliness of oblivion
It wants to be a heart that has buried its beats
And finally rest from the onslaught of life