1. The night did not hope that I would stay up for it
People forget their crimes against people

2. I died between the seen and the awaited
From the white of dawn or from the red of the cup

3. From its wings the pens take their colors
If it deposits the evils of time on my paper

4. And rhythm has intertwined with the strings or was detained
And the trinkets stirred my obsession with obsession

5. And how could it hope to come up with something good
He who spent the night between obsession and lurking