Hope trembles tortured on the bed.
She helped me chomp life once
But I extracted the decayed fang
out of me!
Ha, ha!

The dream canister, they say it has been lost in nothingness:
" From today on you`ll never dream, it`s over"
Hungry, the tongue splits in sweet and bitter
and the sad resolution of remembrance
is vaguely propagated, half-open on the horizon.
The frivolous tone unleashes in Perseus
virtually falling on a fire paper.
It takes fire, it becomes ashes.

Tell me how is a star born in your thought?
How does the spark fall in Andromeda?
and I...
I am silent.

you hadn't put your eyelids against the notion of me
for such a long time,
I hadn't allowed myself to fall towards the moon
for such a long time...
and the extracted fang still aches,
a bird must fly...

but
"from today on I will never dream,
is it over?"