Antics of this life in turbulence
Since they no longer allow you to believe
In the direction where there is any limit
As long as more distant innocence.
At least it could be several
If the force does not ever win the fragile,
And although I am often so agile
Not having one rifle left the back side
And still being thus a vain poem
Outdated form of expression
The deaths of so many will show
When in fact how much I go forward
Using that word, my chisel,
I try and I'm fulfilling my part...