In the nails with which you crucified me, I no longer hang a thing. Alone... It would be better, if you had changed into the bronze mirror That encloses my blurred reflection in a unique compatibility. I do not leave you alone by the scent of my opportune passage, Which would come to you... Lonely, in life's conceded death! The brilliant and fused foresight in which I had you. You're delaying your appearance. So I suspect you've forgotten the thousand ways By which you would burn to me. You're late... Static night-light of tormented plasma that steals your pulse. Inviting, the frozen eyelids burn. Dark...