| Inside the deep forests of dolor | |
| where I secretly hide my weepings, | |
| where I conceal my dreads... | |
| The snake is slumbering like a dead limb, | |
| I am cold in your body. | |
| I penetrate into your wounds | |
| where eyes are watching for me, | |
| numb gapings, threshold with no borders, | |
| oblivion of flesh and mourning. | |
| Small mimetic animal, | |
| I wander through your recesses | |
| tasting like salt flower. | |
| Flesh cathedral, | |
| I dissect your entrails, | |
| dreadful irradiated fate, | |
| where I consider the real shape | |
| of the circle, thousand times. |
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