|Always fugitive and always
Near me, in black mantel
Not well covered the scornful one
This of your pale face.
I don't know where you go, neither where
Your virgin beauty thalamus
It looks for in the night. I don't know
What dreams they close your lids,
Neither of who has half-opened
Your inhospitable channel.
Detén the step, beauty
It avoids, detén the step.
You kiss he/she wanted the bitter one.
It makes bitter flower of your lips.