In the meanders of the abyss of time,
As the fool’s queen enchants us,
The guilty cries drift in the air
Just like a cuddly pen
Fate woven by birth
And the walls of the deep corridors,
Logic without meaning
Brings to despair.
The mysteries of insignificant encounters
Full of shiny, bitter tastes
Are sufficient to a delicate life
And run down as salty as the sea.
The fatal axe of the divine order
Untiringly tortures queens,
Fulfilling its fateful purpose
While the medusa turns souls into crystals.
The clairvoyant’s fearful manuscripts
The mirror reflecting his cries,
He honors cruel living fetishes
To the candlelight.
Unspeakable distress of a goddess
For a trance of prophetic visions.
Strange feeling of oldness
Of a lunar fantasy world.
Faces appear in a brief moment
When life escapes between pain and confusion
Hope is dying under worried stares
This is the king’s position on the chessboard.
Invisible and sudden by nature
Black and white squares punctuate the beat
Of those hearts tired of galloping
To the point of no return.
