When you live only for himself,
the pain is so strong,
bitter,
that reaches the bile and poisons,
twisted entrails
bites the heart
and feel to treading the shadow pleasure.
The smile, try to be nice
The smile, try to be nice
and the rictus of the mouth
is just a face masking.
The look is elusive
and eyes,
- frowning -
spit on the quicksilver blame.
No rest in the soul
No rest in the soul
engulfing his sorrows
and browse aimlessly
the boat heeling
defeat lost in a sea of \u200b\u200bstorms .
No, no rest, no. Neither
potion to heal ailments of the spirit,
No, no rest, no. Neither
potion to heal ailments of the spirit,
only lightning storm ripping
skew their sails
and once finished with his shipwreck.
__________.________
; Carlos Serra
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