The poetry starts at the point
Which you do not understand.
You are an elegy
I am a word exaggerates in love.
It has been well burnt
Then scattered as silent ash upon a spinster flower,
Whose crown is the sea and branches are the kiss
And its spirit is the night whose stars
Complain of their concern to the lonely graves.
You are an elegy
And I am a word of certitude.
The poetry starts at the point
Which you do not understand.
You are a careless elegy.
Whenever my lips sped up to voice something
The elegy changed its griefs,

The colors of its earrings and dates.
It changed its heart and the mask
And left the innocent land of my love
Like an astonishing long - necked bottle
Immersing in water crazy with embracing.
You are a careless elegy
And I am a murderer tempted by the nights
Those do not pass by without stab or a victim.
The poetry starts at the point
Which you do not understand.
You are a careless elegy
Or cursed poems that own their lilac voice
Whenever a charming stigma is torn.
How can I sing you, lady, in my silent name?
Or sing you, lady, in your nosey name?
You are a careless elegy
I am distressed by embracing and youthfulness. And
Lady!
The poetry starts in this manner:
You are my elegy and I am the cemetery guard!