My breath is as hot as Indian pepper, and from my voice fiery chants flies. In my heart are destructive storms, but my eyes are elegant and furnished, from which flow raging streams whose water never runs dry towards you. My dreams are so deep and delicate; for I live in my deadly longing for you. How do you want my heart to have a roaring water that calmly irrigates everything?
I feel your warm voice touching my depths so strongly, but your elegant fingers write nothing. Thus, under the weight of silence, I always try to stand in the middle of the road and whisper in a soft voice in the ear of the days, hoping you feel the warmth of my touch on a green leaf that reminds me of your eyes.