Today I am without knowing---I do not know how, today I am only for sorrows, today I have no friendship, today I only want to rip out my heart and put it under a shoe.
Today that dry thorn grows green, today is the day of my kingdom's tears, today it discharges discouragement into my chest.
I can't move with my star. And I look for death through my hands looking lovingly at the knives, and I remember that companion axe, and I think of the highest bell towers for a serene somersault.
If it weren't why? ... I don't know why, my heart would write a last letter, a letter that I have stuck there, I would make an inkwell of my heart, a source of syllables, goodbyes and gifts, and there you stay, I would tell the world.
I was born on a bad moon. I have the pain of a single pain that is worth more than all the joy.
A love has left me with my arms down and I can't reach out for more. Don't you see my mouth how disappointed, how unhappy my eyes?
The more I contemplate myself, the more I grieve: to cut this pain with what scissors?
Yesterday, tomorrow, today suffering for all my heart, melancholic fish tank, prison of dying nightingales.
I have plenty of heart.
Today, getting discouraged, I am the most heartfelt of men, and for the most, also the most bitter.
I don't know why, I don't know why or how I forgive myself every day.
