Starved face
of internal hell
eyewitness the outline
of the spitting goat
Endures the day of traps
glances of flames
victim of sweetness
candy of poison
the memory of the night
that almost never returns
Him companion lies
tangled among mandrakes
she is the war of life
she doesn\'t plan to leave
with this vulgar nickname
the gentle comradely caresses
give a freshness to her engine
the mothers of the fair
her last bastion
have twisted, with force of love
the rails of that wagon
With a mind on fire and a cold heart,
have you ever done anything good?
Crush her doom with a rock
now you\'re called the girl who sells lipsticks.