I swore to acknowledge your breath the dawn of nostalgia  

On the hands, my voice it is piety that feeds on stone in sad dedications of life.   In preludes you will remember that only aromas of charm they are empty exploits. 

Tonight myrrhs will be the offshoots of your cadence arcana the fire that breathes in your eyes  

When the soul of the body slips away on our promise of eternity beloved  

turns so vesper in bizarre to the vera that from the sky they imitate the blind shadows  

fateful delight comes at last time in the lush limits of the blind roses how senile the desires you deny must return to the reason that despairs in its courage  

calms water