I be and shall be whirled up upon your breast,
since yours is my departure and bequest,
and God has not agreed to love me yet.
It is plentiful my time to cry the earth
towards a not known man;
he gives himself to the lakes.
With unforgivable pleasure
the swans befriends, lusting for his image,
waiting for its coming...
Its corpse is set.
Follow me, to this spot, my hands,
encounter here the poison of my dreams;
become the guilty's lamb,
the symbol: I am not of a man
than fear no more.