| beneath the pitiless gaze of things | |
| we interlock in tight coils | |
| the outbreak of plague a little while before | |
| scorched flowers | |
| beautifully died with blood | |
| the relics of our yesterday | |
| a young beast | |
| quietly waiting | |
| and then with stealthy footsteps | |
| imposing its presence more and more | |
| it disappears when you doubt | |
| the tiredness of the days of indecision | |
| has left us stranded | |
| wrapped in the folds of the rainy season | |
| it disappears when you doubt | |
| it disappears when you doubt |
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