Black is the framework that protects the abyss, was tempered
time until the rain began.
is presented with a bow
the shadows, stepping
flowers where the spirit fell, while within the framework
the metamorphosis is complete,
harden the senses but not the heart ... I think
skin appears Cotton
hands of an angel and a nest
painless
think an earthquake comes from the infinite, with orchestra
another century farce ended.
The Muses
I created a bed of jasmine,
a celestial wind came to fill my voice seems pretentious
I do not speak of human
speak of the essence in my heart rested.
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