Mad I, now happen!
The storm has gushed pleasures.
You has seen, has obeyed,
you of pure charm a pattern.
You breathe envy of passers-by,
and hear our voices.
Your dream to not be similar
to dress heavens on legs.
The ardent customs and composure,
has forgotten to recollect in
this day when tired health,
has rejected a shadow on scars.
To assume that it is an old age,
the cloudy grief wanted,
to close eyes has forgotten pleasure,
has not wanted well and let.
We have together forbidden to lips,
to not touch never.
Each other with passion have infected,
When the Moon was white.
