In the depths of silence, where sounds fade into echoes of longing

In the depths of silence, where sounds fade into echoes of longing, The veil of mysteries unfolds like a river of thoughts and emotions, The wind brings whispers from the sea again, a murmur of time, Beware the sword of choice, for history often makes us fools. What was noble five centuries or even twenty years ago, May now be just a shadow of wasted action, Your life flows only once, but history repeats its bitter lessons, So be mindful of deeds that seem noble in the present moment. Ideals and actions, whether for country, love, or Art, Do not be seduced by fleeting beauty like a cut flower, Love, yes, but not as a burden of chained marriage, Beware of poor nourishment and excessive work, which grind you down. Live in a country, you must, but love is not an order, Neither for a woman nor for land, take the time you need, Drink just enough to maintain continuity, for drink is a new chance, A form of life where the taster returns to a new existence. Moreover, live alone as much as possible, in your peace, Have children if it happens, but do not bind yourself to raise them, Do not engage in petty quarrels, by hand or by voice, Unless the enemy seeks the life of your body or soul. Then strike, if necessary, to defend your being, And when the time comes to die, do not be selfish, but accept serenely, Do not view it as shame or failure, but as a natural passing, For the wind comes from the sea, and time floods your bones with peace.