The rebirth of time, when the calm is cold,
the seconds, try to get away, from the verse.
Patience, without will, to face the step,
that usher the desire to bring down the sun.
One afternoon, without haste,
while the verse, waits for the image,
of the covenant, to renew, at last, the blame.
The rhythms have passed,
without always leaving aside,
the cold pretensions,
and the tenuous promises.
The sun has rejoiced,
despite the night,
that eternally and haughtly,
announces its dominion.
And yes, the night insists,
concentrating to the steps,
"there will be no more moon either."
A distracted verse of grudges,
that the lights will leave,
a dark and good verse is predicted.
The eternity, of a century, where modesty,
is not fair to annul the cry that appeases hope.
The foolishness of the rhythm, destroying portraits,
before the memory of the sun,
there is no time for nostalgia.
The solitude of singing,
is that of feeling the light, despite,
the nocturnal that rises without haste.
The shadows smile, ruling the corner,
that soon becomes verse:
they smile, they also fear.
The dark songs, resemble, a requiem,
that increases the rites ready to chant,
a spell in pregnancy, rumbling the way,
in eternal grandeur, that revives beings.
There is ongoing foolishness, also,
good delusions, the night prompts,
singing and forbidden dance.
Dark eternity invites, the mistake,
of taking the road: to continue or to stop.
The night is being winged,
and boasts of verses, drifting, by the wind,
as the pauses cease.
The eyes dilate, opening to the dark,
the immensity of the pulse, beats in the rhythm of life.
The rebirth of time, is the true impulse,
where joy is reached in the eternal night.
They vibrate and beat low,
because the night is dense,
good beings vibrate with the tones of the soul.
There are firm solitudes and sincere companies,
the night in its balance, gives us,
lukewarmness and pacts,
a moment of virtue, that extends in time,
it is the night, without cold,
the most dark and frank.
And so, he comes without cause,
to take over the rhythm,
the anguish saved, in the poem is released.
Thus the destiny of solitude prevails,
and verse an immense labyrinth to defend its dominion.
And so, the veil of eternity gives hope,
to the wind and the universe,
acclaims the slenderness of the night.
The rebirth of time already feeling,
the rest and the promise intact ... of the last breath.