It is scorching ice, it is icy fire,
Is hurt that hurts and does not feel,
Is a dreamed good, an evil present,
It is a very tired break.
It is an oversight that has taken care of us,
A coward with a brave name,
A solitary walk among the people,
A loving only to be loved.
It is an imprisoned freedom,
That lasts until the last parasismo,
Disease that grows if it is cured.
This is the child Love, this is your abyss:
Look what friendship will have with anything
The one who in everything is contrary to himself.
