Nothing to stop me
to ride the bolt of summer
nothing to leave the imprint night of your hand,
anything unless the hold music
the brightness of your eyes in the deep sea
and succumb on the embers of my flight
the playful singing to be like the hook
that proclaims your side of the whip, dream ...
Nothing to stop me flying
between the wings without reined, on the flight of the winds
that my heart beating on the loom
of the deities charms blind the advents
Exquisite task-beg-a vain over the abyss
is pure jasmine and orange blossom bouquet myself
intertwined in the jungle task of alabaster
exorbitant union of the stars on star ...
Misogynist flock in the struggle of the dream
blasts in the ride Flying minstrel
forbidden on the hard, frozen to getting
heat between the pink sky loom
a golden haze, only to be grabbed
the receipt of the clear night in your heartbeat,
hunch is sand, and wind, clarify
the ocean view from the sea, is glitter ... raise
The sleepless night being that swung in love
has to sustain, guide, maneuver elemental
with the flight of dawn without fear cornfield
between the magnetic amazement slaves, sun am
in the joy that sets the spark that is green
on the blind feature that elaborates without honey
the only scent in the snow of the carnation
and assumes its rustic candor that is the burning red ...
Snowing in the cloister uneven night in flight
overlooks the hook in the wings flush
blind to the splendor of noon, longs for the suspiciously
Forge your melancholy symphony subduing a rustic splendor,
a single furnace, a night blunder in the drum of the nightingale
where the fruit of the sun see the sunrise, and collects its greenness
longing to clear his candor purple
still flutters on the eve of the blue sea and Mr. ...
Nothing ... I stop riding
Summer bolt! The night blind
the darkest star, and attached
heart the day flare, off
on its wings the rain that drowns
which awaken the promise of summer effluvium
in his calm, sea sea of face delivery
his back, in the chimera of your star, your hand ...
Face semblar dreaming in the right hand
of his attention on his ship brooch,
and solace the lost mantle shows
stealth and trails that are grouped into the night!
Lost Sea, which prohibit erect
the home happy and sad burial of hours
in the attic that the sky drowns in panicles
hand of his helmet, canvas, books!
The maiden in the wind does not liquefy flare
its static and drop steely river and unequal
which certain skills lumbered in summer
its moon look exhausted its salt in love ...
A carbuncle beside his distant tea deciphered
night and lends his chiseled silver blush
its fragrant star pout teased
and walnut mandolin, intemperate star!
In silence, native from the flight
sails ready, ranges along the sky ...