In the ignition of your flames
in the vast suns of eternity...

I am winged to the listless cloud
from the steaming weakness of sparks...

I draw my tears to the winter
squalls of weeping into gales...

My tongue will not drench
in neither English nor French...

" To who loses him nothing
To who wins him nothing...

I am naught but a sigh
in the tear of your eye...

" Reads me the book of your eyes
since...

Worry not O God, worry not Heaven and Hell
for I am an unborn that dies before the breath...

Whisper me the roses
blooms in the flown spring...

My life is pale
the much I beheld the days and wept...

Though I am the mine
Of rum and wine...

One day , once a haze , once a night
once your rain , a spring of light...