Like you, like a pigeon, like me, like a child, like me, like a branch, like you, like a poop, like a dark silk, this silent night, which burns from the fresh self-immolation, a song like the impulse mirror of this lily-clad lagoon, which has fallen under the rain of the wave barrage, like a butterfly in a fist, it is easy to kill us, like a butterfly in a fist, how easy it is to kill us, like the image of the
bitter moon of exile. Who has fallen on the lagoon of this misguided path, like this depressed silence of the displaced who has left the nostalgia of our road, with a drop of tears, it can shake and destroy us, with a poetic kiss, we can rain a song like a butterfly in a fist, it is easy to kill us like a butterfly in a fist, how easy it is to kill us
in this vast rampage in this night, not a single hand, not a single hug, not a stone, not a trench .There is no refuge but the song of a comrade, there is no comrade but the wall , where are you, the light of my love from the shadows, like a butterfly in a fist, it is easy to kill us.
