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The death of the lovers
We will have regal perfumed channels,
And deep thalamuses, as sepulchers,
Flores strangers, dispersed in the tables
They will explode, already our, in more temperate skies.

Vivifying until the limit the last ardors
They will be two our flames hearts
That with strange lights they will illuminate
Our souls that twins, wander.

And, finally, in a pink twilight and mystic blue
We will exchange a last lightning
As a deep sob, plethoric of good-byes.

And later, an Angel, half-opening doors,
It will revive, constant and jubilant,
Cloudy mirrors and the dead flames.

Love is high,
I cannot reach you,
But if we were two,
Who knows, us,
For shift, in the cimbronazo,
Ducal, finally, we could be.
Love, you are deep,
I cannot penetrate you,
If we were two
Instead of one
Rower and boat, in oneself summer,
perhaps we would reach the sun?

Love, they cover you with a veil.
Very few they come you,
He/she smiles and get excited, he/she speaks and he/she dies.
It would be a nonsense without you the happiness
Call for heaven's sake eternity.

All the letters that I can write
They are not letters like these,
Velvet syllables,
Plush sentences,
Ruby depths, invioladas,
Hidden, lip, for you,
To write them was a bird whisper,
That it only arrived to my.

Honey of one hour
I never understood your power.
Prohibit me
My smallest gift
My flower, not well-known
Be deserved.