Life guides me to you regardless of whether there is no way or scaffold.
Destiny addresses me without a voice and without searching for you I track down your brilliance and your obscurity in each corner.
In the voice of the crickets, under the illumination of the moon of Mars, in each thump of my heart wounds are recuperated and open for each tear shed.
Tell me, my exquisite fortune, where do the valuable swallows go while spring closes?
Maybe they will go to the idealistic spot where roses have no thistles, so the injury won't ignite with the dash of the breeze.
Let me know darling, where will you go when our own is finished?
At the point when I never again address your home and your protected spot.
At the point when you feel that an iron shield ascends in your chest that detains your spirit as the songbird did with the thistles of the rose... for adoration.
Let me know my sweet desolation, will you think about me when you see the illumination of the moon in the obscurity?
Or on the other hand will you let that dull wolf that has developed to the beat of my shadows and my murkiness go with me?
I know… . I realize that we are both taking on an extraordinary conflict with both inward and outside beasts.
I have given you my solidarity to lift the blade together.
I have given you my protection so the bolts don't pierce your chest and harm your heart.
I have given you my heart with the goal that my pulses assist you with supporting your weighty burden and recuperate your injuries.
I know… . I realize that we are both taking on an extraordinary conflict with both inward and outside beasts.
I have given you my solidarity to lift the blade together.
I have given you my protection so the bolts don't pierce your chest and harm your heart.
I have given you my heart with the goal that my pulses assist you with supporting your weighty burden and recuperate your injuries.
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