Like a bird in the cage
of a unceasing movie of fly...

Not finding it anywhere
but in yourselves...

This scrap of dirt,
this portion of earth...

You are incurable
Because you are your own disease...

Have you ever drunk from the goblet of yourself?
Have you ever distinguished...

So, then, does a dummy always says
what ventriloquist want him to say...

Life is a case of watercolour,
caterpillars relinquishing being crawlers...

Tell me that there is a reason for me being alive,
that there is a final meaning...

It was in the stage
between moments and the moon...

Every time we embrace
we inbreathe each other...

She shines and soaks in every star
in the blooming night...

Hey little bird, hey little bird,
are you as hurt as my heart...