"The flames of these candles, Reflecting their faces On this inert wall... Human construction On which once Blood was thrown... On which my blood was thrown...
Oh, ancestral flames Deprived of misery, or sensibility... Deprived of tears, or laughter... But yet so real . "
And this stagnant blood... Sending astray the isthmus Of this wandering encephallus, Lost in nothingness...
But what else would bring nothingness But a new life, In front of this increasing wound, Which the rustling human death is...
What is deliverance, Morbid and mystical outlet, Leaving place for the icy void, And perhaps for a precipice...
Like this stagnant blood... Fleeing from coherence, Dividing the senses, Disturbing ataraxia...