Nevermore the morning nature
and the beauty in the city's artifice
In a building without windows,
I drew her eyes
among traces of bullets
and the television lights.
My eyes have the hunger of the horizon
Her face is a mirror with no promises
Through Decembers I traverse
Through oceans and deserts (too)
Seeing death so close to me,
my life is in its hands.
The train leaves, on the starless night
And the day comes,
Neither I, nor the train, nor her.1
Nevermore the nature, nevermore...
1. This part might mean that, though a new day is coming, none of those mentioned are coming along with the break of dawn.