In the volcano of time, my mind melts in profound silences
In the volcano of time, my mind melts in profound silences,
Our game of weeping, a melody on hidden strings,
Watching mimics that birth tears in downpour, inverting reality,
Eyes closed, like gates to another world, another life.
Conceptual death interweaves with the strange thread of existence,
Eyelids are sewn with invisible threads, keeping essences hidden,
Beyond them, the people within us are fanatic heroes, mad,
Hearts locked in cages of ribs, as in a trap of destiny.
Our beings stretch lazily through the green fields of dreams,
Love wears ornaments of mist, perfumed with shadows of longings,
My words are sculptures of thoughts, in graveyards of minds,
Emptying themselves in advance, they rise, as in a waltz of untouched worlds.
In this secret dance, we lose ourselves among echoes of stars,
On the wings of time, we seek meanings in fragments of chimeras,
We are prisoners of our own endless eternity,
Wandering among metaphors, searching for the hidden truth.
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