Do not trust to anyone
Our secrets fearsome.
Do not tell to anyone
How we’ll die.
In this book, between the lines
It is here the real God hides
And he smiles, admiring you.
It’s because your beauty gleams
Like the sparkling magic beams
From the scepter of a stranger in my dreams.
We are laying in the clouds
and, below, a river runs.
All the bullets we have shot returned to us.