---

Look around me and find my desillusion

like the dog that plays with a worm,

and forgets his unfaithful destiny.

From my hand emerges the horror of what's possible,

all oxide is to the iron

as the crystal to the somber.

The remembrance is the breath that darkens the crystal,

all difuse and superflous.



To think in her is to keep her too much in mind:



The depth of her eyes charms upon opening the door

of the dark room and only the green remains.

In the distance I see emanate the last sigh

that hits the cliff until destroy it while the albatross

undertakes the flight to his death.

In the immensity lays what is possible,

there the sight gets lost in the infinite...

and at the end nothing.

I have the infinite in me,

in the second that I suspended my life

in the crystalsomber.