I like it,
I love it...

Let the river flow
only clean water is good for drinking...

Atmosphere as my witness,
I will always hold her tight...

Life is a drawn picture,
awaiting for you to paint...

I found a man writing on his bones,
and I who have never seen a God...

Forms are born of an open hand.
But there is one that is born of the closed hand...

There is a door that is open but we have to break...
just the same...

Life is a necessary precaution like the shadow for...
But there's something excessive...

Labyrinth of the bitter and the sweet,
of the ripe seasons before the harvest...

Thoughts fall like leaves,
rot like fruits without teeth...

Interior deserts,
vague litanies for someone who died leaving all...

You can put out the fire but never put an end to...
The one who did not rise to the dignity of fire...