The day cuts down its course with length of time. My friend, should it never make of your heart as a target, Since, alas, the race of the years already passes, The disappearance of the hours to the glance of Parques.
Dream your life, dare the magic, the feelings. In your drawings, do plate all your fears , In silver printed signs, do write it black on white, Write the pause, the sigh, the emotion, the rhythms of rage.
Because will come the moment that you do fill of doubts To close, to erase and to bar the space of the roads. Believe me in, never regrets the shade of the days
The cold which traverses your side, the pleasant perfume Of flowers, the heat of a glance which takes care your stay. The day cuts down its course into lava flow.
