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Under the vault of shadow of unfulfilled love,
The sweet poison becomes the purpose of bitter days,
When the heart, caught in the tender dance of beginnings,
Gradually sinks into the labyrinth of forced intimacy.
A flight that seemed to reach for the heavens, in fact descends into the abyss,
Turning passion into a lost mechanical rhythm,
A dream turned into dark pleasure, insatiable fantasy,
A monster that has torn apart and consumed the fruit of love.
Searching for the primordial state at each crossroads of the soul,
Yet the thrill of the search breaks against the wall of acute compulsion.
With each dose of sweet loss, a new trap is woven,
And the soul, like a vagabond, desperately stretches out for relief.
In the whirlpool of desire, you feel like a fisher of illusions on a tumultuous ocean,
Hoping to catch solace but only grasping waves of fear,
You, slave to the flesh, find yourself chained by your own thirsty flame,
And once more you beseech, for a breath of air, as you sink into it.
You are like a leaf in the wind, the bars weigh heavy, and still the tumultuous passion is your cell,
&quot;Have I become refuse?&quot; you ask, but the longing is in the words, crying out your lost innocence.
The mirror lies to you every day, telling you there are no more stairs to forgiveness,
But inside you know you are more, you are the dream, the hope, not the shadow of your weary past.
Once more, a soul lost in its fractured loves,
On the path to find itself, it prays, it struggles; it contends mightily.
The addiction you carry is heavy, the hours whip with impatience,
And you cry to the world, &quot;Help!&quot; fighting against the inscrutable dusk.
In this labyrinth, you will find at one end, someday, the gate to your true self,
A path towards the inner light where your mind’s youth never ceased to beat,
Do not resign to be the prisoner of an endless maze,
For self-reconciliation, rise and shout, and beseech the heavens to hear you and to give you solace.
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