|Where Oblivion Dwells in the vast gardens without dawn; as I only memory of a stone buried in nettles on which the wind escapes his insomnia.|
Where my name leave the body designating in the arms of the centuries.
Where the desire is not there.
In this great region where love, awful angel, do not hide like steel in my chest his wing, smiling full of gracious air while growing torment.
Where finish this quest that requires a master in his own image by subjecting his life to another life, with no other horizon than facing eyes.
|Where pains and pleasures are only just names, sky and earth natives around a memory; where the end is free without knowing myself, dissolved in fog, absence, absence light as a child.|
There, far away,
where dwell forgotten.
Back remember [dwelling] that place.