Sometimes fate has a hand,
Splash lightly on the cheek,
And already kissing to distraction:
The rod and the stick in his hand.
And we have this little touch,
Sighing softly, we go
Say that teaches
Our destiny, like in the movies.
Has destiny whips
Hits the shoulders at the back too
And we suffer at night
“Why – ask – beat ?”
We complain loved ones, family,
Crying and not sleeping,
And transfer still worthy
The blows of fate, live.
But when you push on the ground,
And feet the fate of batters,
Not strong enough scarce
And breathe in this moment.
Grabbing his head with his hands,
He plunged his gaze into the darkness
Worry wounds,
Like a small child.*
Not everyone has the strength to rise,
Faith to live again,
And easily we then broke down
And become Ghost like.
But, shrinking from pain,
The series of troubles behind.
Pray God has a better life,
Breaks his back!
