The forbidden will always be more tempting,
a whisper in the shadow, sweet sin,
the flame that burns with fervour,
a dark labyrinth, a longed desire.
Like wine in a golden cup,
each sip a touch of madness,
the laughter of the wind, winged skin,
in the silent night, adventure.
It attracts us without being able to avoid it,
a magnet of dreams to discover,
where fear dresses up as flattery,
and reason surrenders to feeling.
It causes us a pleasant sensation,
a spell that envelops and traps,
every glance, every illusion,
under the moon that escapes everything.
And we can never give up,
to those steps drawn in the sand,
to the furtive dance of a love,
that blooms in the mist of the scene.
The forbidden is the most,
is a subtle echo in the heart,
a hymn of life, a fleeting compass,
a sweet rebellion of reason.
