Five summers, four lovers
and three checkbooks ago,
I've been here, as I am today.
Same corner, same shade of gloomy day,
and about the same volume of falling rain,
still a one-call-away favorite friend of pain.
Only now I am much more
clever and conniving,
more calculating
and dare I say,
more frightening.
My approaching steps are the pitter-patter
of the storm starting,
the thundering warning of my arrival
is Manila's hour rushing.
Words from my lips
are news you'd rather miss,
however I can't say the same
about my infamous kiss.
I am older, and longer are my to-do lists.
My patience is longer,
but my heart no longer sighs or beats.

Half a year has passed
Love has been recalled
and lives have been lost
Hearts have been split in halves
Lessons learned, wages earned
More questions left unanswered
Am I getting older
or just getting used to it?
Am I growing wiser
or just getting my old self back?
But all the love I think I gave to people,
out to the bigger world,
I need a little bit of that back for myself.
Even just for a little while.
I need some kind of balance
or even an illusion thereof.
Am I becoming stronger
or getting more careless?
Am I getting smarter
or just getting sheer luck?
Yet all the lessons I thought I learned
from all the people I gave my love to,
I think I didn't really need them.
All I needed was to do it myself.
Like I always do.
Is the earth getting warmer
or is my skin growing thicker?
Are my dreams becoming closer
or I just couldn't care less any longer?
More questions will be asked
and will be left unanswered.

I… was going to write words, and they were going to make sense, and they were going to be songs of praises about his name.
Perhaps they would’ve been words about love, or about fantasy within irony, or plainly about my feelings; raw, uninhibited, loud, bold,
because I'm having way too much of them while trying to understand him, the masterpiece.
But then I watched my sanity fly, my soul depart from my bruised body and then my heart crashing, falling down for him.

The End.


Or is it just the beginning?

𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘺 (𝘯); 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺;
𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘴: 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵, 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳,
𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘯'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦

I know who I am
Yet I don't mind being contained inside a stereotype
I'd even laugh with them or crack a harder joke,
if that means with you, I'll get to spend more time.
I know that in surprise of my truth, they will all choke.

I know myself
I've sworn with blood I won't throw my heart so far
like a boomerang that carelessly takes flight,
but I don't mind the comfort of being inside your car
even more so being found with you there late at night.

I know what I want
I chase my dreams daily, men only every two years
And I don't mind the name-calling and naysays
Because what I want can't be bought with tears
and all they'll ever know about me is my name anyway.

I know what I'll get
But if it's you, I'll take what I can and hope I won't need
Even if it feels like looking into those eyes of yours is a crime
Because life before you have been stereotypical indeed
So I don't mind, no I don'tㅡin hundreds of jails I'd merrily do time.

I know what you'll get
And if it's not me, there are always the girls
waiting for you back home
or the ones who anticipates you
wherever you may cross, dock or land
Because I have a feeling life after you
would feel like I've always been alone
But would you mind? If I ask you
to hold me longer and take my hand?

Do we know where we'll get?
If it's not with you and me,
there are thousand other pretty faces and luscious lips...
But can they ever fill the void I've left
and will I never stop thinking about what they lack?
Because I have a feeling there's more to this,
I've never missed anyone's hand on my hips...
But would you mind? If I ask you
to give me another night, will you ever come back?

But with him,
I can be the woman I wish I were,
the lover I doubt I could ever be
and the writer I wish I could take a pill to become
so after him,
after this romance,
    after he's gone,
        what do I become?

From your Roman Empire,
to my Ancient Egypt...
from your eyes and their cool fire,
to the curses falling down my lips

Up from your northern skies,
out of my vast desert's hottest sand
In from your colosseum's light,
down to my catacombs' earth and land

Their cowardly call for battles and war
is our romance's answer to serenity
They only dare to fight us from afar,
my name haunts them for all eternity

Let them come if they wish and dare
As we inspire the world's greatest love stories
I'll let my kingdom come, all rich and bare
But they will never go down in history

On my own,
I would probably *****
and gallop around
like an untrained horse,
just doing whatever I please.
But with himㅡmy master, my rider,
I became a tamed, seasoned
and trained champion.
When he's on top of me,
he trots with glee,
when we jump
and into the air we flee;
I feel like I would be sold
with a worth far more than
a brand new Ferrari.
On my own, I am but a restless beast;
But when we canter together,
we grace the lands
and weather the storm,
we ride with such majesty
and with much ease and joy.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂,
𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒅, 𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒆;
𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐, é𝒍 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓á 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒔,
𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂, 𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒊ó𝒏;
𝑨 𝒗𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒂 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒕ú𝒏𝒆𝒍.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓,
¡𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔, 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!
¡𝑺𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏, 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒑𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!

¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒐, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
𝑬𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂, ¿𝒅ó𝒏𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕á 𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓?
¡𝒀 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒐, 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐, 𝒚 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓á!

𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í 𝒖𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐,
𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒐 𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆;
¡𝑨𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒅í𝒂, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒗í𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓í𝒂!

𝒀 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒐 𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒔,
𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒔;
¡𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒐 ú𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂ñ𝒂𝒓!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏;
¡𝑬𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒓á,
𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒂!

~~

𝑨𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒉á𝒍 𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒃â𝒚á𝒏,

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒅á𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕â 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒉á𝒏𝒂𝒏, 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈;
𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒘𝒊𝒅, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒕â𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒅 𝒍á𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒌𝒕𝒐, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕û𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏;
𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒑 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂,
𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏!
𝑨𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒑𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏!

𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒂, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏, 𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈?!
𝑨𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊-𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊, 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏,
𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒍ô𝒔 𝒐 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒐,
𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝒌𝒐;
𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒐, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒍á 𝒑𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔!

𝑨𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒐,
𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐, 𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒐;
𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒕á𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏á𝒌𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒐!


𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐,
𝑳𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂

There was once a haunted tree,
not feared by many, in fact,
only by that of a young spinster.
But of five and twenty,
liked by many, however,
only a few were ever called her lover.

Until she met a man that felt like an army,
like hundreds of men marching,
whose loyalty was sworn for her beauty.
Until one man felt like a war waging,
yet like a calm ocean breeze blowing
and like marching silently into the dark sea.

Until there came the lover whose laughter
felt like an ache from a life long gone,
whose smiles felt like gunshots.
Until there was he who felt like home,
yet as distant as the tides are to the moon
and as untouchable as a silky thunderbolt.

There was a tree the spinster holds dear,
so close to her ever yearning heart.
This tree, she likens to that of her lover.
whose branches threatens to fall on her,
bears fruits that if they choose to plummet,
someone is to get hurt and it would be her.

And then there was a legend that this tree,
that was once a fruit of another host
that was fabled to be haunted.
But before the tales of horrors and shrieks,
it was abundant, it was the guide to the lost,
until it was axed, hunted as needed.

All of this tree's fruits turned to be of toxins,
opposing the townspeople's songs of praises.
All its branches grew webs upon cleaving,
challenging the tales of awes and delight.
All of which except for one, a golden fruit,
the root's promise and hope of the fallen.

What the preachers say could be of truth,
their words she avoided could be gospel.
What the non-believers say could be a tale,
their rumors could save her from demise.
What if the tree is just as rotten as the root,
what if it is indeed the produce from hell?

A sober rockstar, not even a puff of cigarette
A man who's actually one
A cowboy making the sign of the cross before a rodeo show
A ******* singing songs of love
A murderer in an old church's confessional
A white guy in Manila who's actually here for work
A cool guy having hot flashes and constant fever
A deadbeat father writing poetry
A ped*phile making the sign of the cross out of habit
A hot guy having regular hypothermia
A politician smiling warmly
A poet
A poem
A poet and their poems.

Tinawid ko ang karagatan,
binaybay din ang Kabisayaan.
Mula sa hilaga, sa Katagalugan,
mahanap ko lang ang katotohanan.
At makita ko lamang ang kasagutan,
malasap lang ang angkin nitong tabáng.
'Di lang karagatan ang handa kong tawirin,
mga ilog na may buwaya rin, aking giliw.
Makita ko lang sa'yong mata ang saliw
at dampi ng aking nadaramang sakit.
Babaybayin ang buong bayan at isla,
bibilangin ko ang bawat mga tala.
Lilibutin ko ang kabundukan,
lilituhin ating kapalaran.

Summer come, but already
her heart is dropping temperature
yet again,
already her hair is blasting across your shoulders down to your arms, your hesitation and your unhinged desperation of her heat.
Her bones scattered all over your
almost-said words and in the crevices of your proud, unfazed deceit.
The fine threads of her sanity tangles and knots up in every nooks, crannies and cul-de-sacs inside you.
In your bedcover, your clothes,
the chair.
She is drifting away.

I have no time to pray
For instead I must work, cry, eat,
all these prayers, I cannot say anyway.
I have to work for the things
that I want and need
instead of praying and waiting for them,
I have to cry so I can work again for the things I really need
and silence my cries and dry my tears with the things I want then,
I have to eat so I can do it all over again
instead of praying to get warm food on my plate
or fresh sheets on my bed.
So tell me
Where do I find the time?
Where do I look for more?
Do I pray for more time too?
And if so, when do I find the time to pray
for more time?
If God doesn't sleep, then I am a God too.
And even if I'm restless,
I still have no time to pray.
And even if I have rest,
when does that happen anyway?
I have no time to pray, rest
or God forbid, play
For instead I must work, cry or eat.
When I'm on my deathbed,
probably then I'll have time to pray.

Alam kong umpisa na ng tag-init dyan.
O baka lingid sa kaalaman ko'y
sa susunod na linggo pa o kalaunan.
Ngunit kung paano ang tag-init dyan
o gaano kainit ay hindi ko alam.
Paano ang tag-init dyan sa inyo?
Gaano ka-init ang mainit dyan sa bahay mo?
Sana'y naaarawan ka ng sapat at tama,
sana'y palaging malusog ka at masaya.

Alam mo bang tag-ulan na rito ng Hunyo?
O maaaring para sayo ay patak pa lang,
o marahil mga mumunting tulo.
Ngunit kung gaano kaginaw
o paano ang tag-ulan ay hindi mo alam.
Gaano kaginaw, gaya ba ng taas ng baha?
Paano ang patak ng ulan, tulad ba ng luha?
Sana'y bagyuhin at tangayin ang mga mali,
sana'y mawala na ang alaalang gipit.

Alam kong tag-init na pag Hunyo sa inyo.
Ngunit alam mo ba talaga kung gaano ka-init
kung ikaw sana'y narito sa silid ko?
Alam mo ba ang tunay na tag-init,
gayong di mo pa nararanasan sa bisig ko?
Hindi mo malalaman kung gaano kainit ang mainit
hangga't ika'y wala sa tabi ko.
Ang tunay na tag-init ay nasa aking piling.

Alam mo nang tag-ulan na rito ng Hunyo.
Ngunit kung malalaman mo nga kung gaano kaginaw,
tulad siguro ng paghagkan sa bloke ng yelo.
Alam mo ba ang tunay na tag-ulan,
tila mga patak ng luha kung mawawala ako.
Malalaman mo kung gaano kaginaw ang maginaw
kung mawawala ako sa buhay mo.
Ang tunay na tag-ulan ay ang aking kawalan.

9 pm in Cubao,
It was only my second bottle, but how come I can't recall whether I left the house just an hour ago?
Ah, I wanted to escape from the chaos that is the metro.
But I loathe this particular place, so why here again?
The record stores were even shut like they'll never open doors again.
That's another magical thing about vintage shops—they look hopeless except they're everything but.
But I'm half grateful, at least one less memory of this place are shut closed, too.
Though I am less woeful, knowing this is not just another equally less woeful night.
After the last bottle, I blew the city a kiss, bracing myself for the unfamiliar ride.
I've stopped counting the months in which I've been dying to see the sun rise by the beach and not by the concrete jungles of BGC.
I softly let go of all my uncertainties,
but holding onto the excitement firmly.
Oh, I can't wait much longer for the ocean breeze.

My most beloved,
I've always known, it makes perfect sense.
Why they all want to take you,
away from my arms and from the lull of rest.
Why they all want a piece of you,
it's because you are simply, utterly the best.
My dearest,
it's all because you are heaven-sent.
Because of you, I am brave and I can win.
Your waves are weaved by God himself.
Because of you, I can surf, sink and swim.
But my love,
for you, there is no war I wouldn't fight.
There is no battle that I wouldn't triumph.
No forefronts I wouldn't lead.
No enemy I wouldn't bury dead.
My most beloved sea, my dearest,
𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘬 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘢
For your laughters, waves and sunset,
𝘐-𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘬𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘺𝘢𝘨 𝘬𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯.

You were my own brand of summer and your love is the sunburn that will never soothe and heal.
Your kiss can pull the clouds away from the sun, keep the boats anchored down despite strong currents and bring the solstice in the middle of the monsoon.
Your view from the shore while you were testing the waters will forever be etched in the remaining islets of my heart so it will never be washed away.
The sun blazing at our final hours in the beach is a manifestation that I should wait for something I really want;
I wanted the burn and the blaze but enough is enough.
My skin, my eyes and my bones can only take in so much.
The pain comes in waves and I already forgot how to swim.
The memories are twelve feet,
I'm just about five and I can't even float.
After you left, I felt the coldness of all the final months of the year take me into their embrace all at once.
This is what winter must feel like.
It was the worst of all tortures, I only felt summer hours ago.
I was aching for your arms around me, you can't even begin to imagine.
You took that summer heat with you but I shall find it again, but not from you.
But how? Everytime I remember summer, I only remember you.
You are my summer.

I can't wait to call all these a memory—at least one I do not intend to keep.

They are the drops of rain in an island
as you ride through a storm on a motorbike.
The coconuts falling down your head
on a quiet beach.
They are the songs and poems
addressed to or meant to attack politicians.
They are slippery rocks on a river
and the current of a whirlpool
for the heavy steps
of the enemies.
And they are the soft cashmere carpet
and the fine, powdery sands
for the careful steps
of my lovers.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet
Did the past month really occur
Or I just hallucinated that we met?

Consectetur adipiscing elit
Did I regret it
Or did I wish I stayed longer for a bit?

Sed do eiusmod tempor
Did you regret it
Or are you wishing now for more?



Placeholder,
I'm just another design page,
whose lips are a passing, familiar symbol.

A replacer,
You're just another pretty face,
whose eyes I already forgot the color.

We move along and away,
Get on with our diring days



I couldn't even dare call you a lover,
we really just both filled each other.

Sometimes,
I can't help but sit, sigh and stare at nowhere
and wish, wonder and probably wait
for a different meeting
for a different time
for a different place.
our hearts less heavier,
our houses a little bit nearer
our smiles much more brighter,
the worries are somewhere farther.

But most of the time lately,
I wish I can just ******* forget you.

until the next life or the after.

It is 1985. I wake up from an afternoon nap, about to get ready for another night-out.
You see, I'm a typical distressed teenager just trying to make it out alive through music and art.
I take a shower while The Cure is blasting along the trickles of water.
I take my rollers, hairspray and flashy eyeshadows, glamming up for a night packed with new wave music, dancing with other teenagers who share my sentiment.
A night free of alcohol or any narcotics; the loud, booming music is enough to give me that high.
Oh, take me back to the era fit for my old soul.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒏
𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒌.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒖𝒈𝒐
𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒐.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒔𝒐𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒌
𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒌 𝒔𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒕
𝒐 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒏
𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒌𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒐.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒖𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒊.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒊.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒋𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒛𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒐
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒐𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐
𝒏𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒌 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒃𝒂
𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒐 𝒖𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐𝒔.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒘 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒘.
𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏.

𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕á𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒎𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔
𝒚 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒐,
𝒂𝒒𝒖í 𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒊 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊ó𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒔;

𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝑷𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔
𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔,
¡𝑻𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒛𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔!

𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒔
𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒔,
¡𝑵𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒊!

𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒓ó𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒔
𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓ó𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔,
¡𝑻𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔!

¿𝑸𝒖𝒆 𝒎á𝒔?
¡𝑨𝒉, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐, 𝒄𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔!
¡𝑴𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐
𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔!

𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒔 𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒔,
𝑬𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒈𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍,
𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒔.
¡𝑵𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒊, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒐 𝒕ú 𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔
𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒍 𝒈𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓!

¿𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒎á𝒔?
¡𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒎á𝒔!
𝑷𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔,
𝒍𝒂 𝒎á𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕í𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂.
¡𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒗í𝒂 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕í𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔!

¡𝑨𝒚, 𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔!
𝑷𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕á𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒎𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔
𝒚 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒐,
𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒒𝒖é 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔
𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒖𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒐.

𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝑵𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔,
𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂 𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒐𝒔,
¡𝒍í𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒛 𝒚 𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆!

𝑨𝒎𝒆𝒏.

It's been a month since I've cut my hair short
And in another month, I'll cut it again,
and the next month, another inch,
and more inch, and more inch...
As it tries to grow longer, I'll stop it there.
I'll chop it, if it tries to go past my shoulder.
And by December, I'll have a hair and body you have never touched, ever.
And by January, I'll be a brand new person
yet someone you'll never forget forever.

Don't worry,
in one of these days I'll be gone,
you wouldn't know where I will be,
you wouldn't know where to would I run.
But don't worry,
it will be in a place where you would like.
you wouldn't know it's in a quaint surftown,
it will be somewhere you'll also wanna hide.

No doubt,
sometime soon I'll be away,
I know you wouldn't feel the longing,
you wouldn't know the feeling of being astray.
But don't doubt,
I'll be in a place where I wanna be with you,
you wouldn't know if I'm in some place warm.
I'll be with you anywhere and you know it too.

So I'll be everywhere.
You'll find me in the air, in flowers, in breeze.
I'll be wherever there's summer, even winter.
I'll be everywhere.
You'll find me in the moon and in palm trees.

But you have to tell me these too;
"I want you gone."
"Please hide."
"Please run."
"You're not the one I like."
"Go away."
"I don't wanna be with you."

Then I'll be gone, I'll go hide.
I'll run, hide some more, and hide, and hide.

Then I'll be nowhere.
You'll find me in the fleeting January air,
I'll be wherever there's no spring, all fall.
I'll be nowhere.
You'll find me in December, or nowhere at all.

Just seven will never be enough, nor
seventy or even seven hundred thousand.
It's an insult for how many words I want to say, how many are the grains of sand?

Just fourteen stops before I go?
Frankly, that's quite generous.
Twelve disciples?
All I need is you.
Just ten commandments by my father?
Honestly, for you I'd write them better.
Eight days until my rebirth and our reunion?
Painstakingly, that's quite a wait.
Just three falls going to my death?
Mercilessly, make it a hundred.
Just two nails to pin me down?
Respectfully, make it a thousand.
Just one cross?
Please, I demand millions.

Just one life will never be enough, nor
ten or even a millenia to hold your hand.
It's an offense, really, because how much rain do you think can the sea withstand?

Penitencia número uno:
Intentaré no pensar en ti y en mí en la misma cama.
Y tú también, intenta no pensar en el color de mi piel
ni en mi cuerpo.

Penitencia número dos:
No hablaré contigo, esta es una oración
y una promesa.
Y tú también, sigue haciendo lo que haces,
finge que no quieres mis besos.

Penitencia número tres:
Intentaré imaginar que eres el sol quemando mi piel.
Qué dolorosamente bien besas mi cuerpo.
Y tú también, trata de imaginarme
como si fuera la luna de tu marea.
Como si no pudieras estar sin mí por la noche.

Penitencia número cuatro:
No te hablaré, pero me arrodillaría frente a ti como un altar.
Qué fervor te oraría y te adoraría.
Y tú también, intenta orar a Dios por mí cuando
ya me haya ido para siempre.
Como si pudieras vivir sin mí en este mundo loco.

Penitencia número cinco:
Es simple. Iría, saldría de tu vida y te regalaré mi silencio.
Debería ser simple. Déjame ir y regálame el camino de salida
si no puedes darme el cielo.

Mientras no estás,
tengo confesiones que hacer.
Y mientras estoy aquí,
también tengo unas preguntas que hacer.

Estoy esperando tu regreso,
¿tú también estás esperando el mío?
¿Crees que el verano también
extraño el invierno y el frío?

¿Crees que la luna extraña el mar,
por eso sigue tirando de las mareas?
¿Son las conchas las lágrimas de la luna?
¿Son las olas el sonido de sus gritos y peleas?

Estoy esperando que vuelvas,
¿O tú también estás esperando mi llegada?
¿Crees que Dios también extraño
el mundo tranquilo y vacío?

¿Crees que el sol extraño al mundo,
es por eso que hay flores y frutas?
¿Son las flores los besos del sol?
¿Y son los frutos la prueba de su amor?

¿Crees que de todos modos Dios ama tanto
el mundo desordenado,
que nos dio a su hijo y la luna y por eso pintó
los colores de verano para el mundo?

¿Crees que Dios te ama tanto,
por eso te creó perfectamente,
nos dio la vida y el sol
y por eso me creó para ti, no el es justo?

Mientras espero tu regreso,
yo haré vuelto a nacer.
Y cuando estés aquí,
no tendremos más que placer.

If my country is going to war, yet again...
I want to let you know that I won't kiss you.
No, at least not in vain.
For my kisses does not soothe,
rather they burn.
Like that of a tropical summer afternoon.
I won't even touch your hand.
No, at least not with mine.
For my hands does not heal,
rather they hurt.
Like they wouldn't know you are not enemy.
If my country is already at war, yet again...
I won't indulge myself to hug you.
No, at least not with this body,
a body that could possibly fail and die.
For my body is one that refuses to live,
in and for a land wherein birds cannot fly.
I won't help myself and look into your eyes.
No, at least not this time.
For my eyes are a pair that refuses to look,
at a bloodbath that I've only read in books.
So if my country goes to war, time and again...

I want to let you know, that no...

I won't kiss you in vain, for I will kiss you
until they drag my body and take me away.
Until drops of my blood are flowing in rivers, lagoons, farmlands, grass and grains.
I will touch your hand with the promise of sweet victory.
With the news that my mountains and seas are yours to roam free.
I won't hug you with this body, but with my bodies of water and seas.
Until you are embraced by the wild waves, may you taste their liberty.
I won't look at you with my bloodshot eyes,
but with the promise that you will never again see blood, and with the eternal sunlight over our vast fields and blue skies.

𝑨𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝒎𝒂𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒐.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈,
𝒊𝒔𝒂 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔!
¡𝑨𝒚! 𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐...
𝑫𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒌𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒂,
𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂, 𝒑𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈...
𝑨𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒂𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒂,
𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒔...

𝑰𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒂
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐,
𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒐...
𝑺𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈, 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒂,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒕á 𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒂...
𝑼𝒏𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘 𝒎𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒆ñ𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆ñ𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒓á𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚,
𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂'𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒚-𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒚.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒐, 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒂 é𝒍,
𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒌𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒚𝒂 𝒚 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊é𝒏.
𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒖𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒔𝒂'𝒚𝒐.
𝑺𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒊 𝒎𝒐, 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒈 𝒎𝒐.
𝑫𝒖𝒅𝒂 𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒊 𝒔𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒎𝒐.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒆.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏, 𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝑵𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐,
𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒐...
𝑺𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒔,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒂...
𝑼𝒏𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒐,
𝒓á𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘,
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒐, 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒖 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐,
𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒚𝒂, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒔ó𝒍𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
¿𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓? ¿𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔?
𝑫𝒖𝒅𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 é𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊é𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒒𝒖é 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒊ó.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒆.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑺𝒊 𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆.
𝑬𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂.

Sé que tú también lo sentirlo,
la misma frustración
que siento en mi corazón.

Sé que tú también lo ves,
compartimos la misma condición
que está llena de dolores.

Sé que tú también puedes oírlo,
las mismas canciones
que canto o escribo en secreto.

Pero sé que ya lo sabes,
compartimos el mismo jardín y mundo
que está lleno de magia y flores.

⁠Even if you are an enemy
who's bound to hurt me,
I would still ask you
to come sit and eat with me.
Even if you are an enemy
who's sent to capture me,
I would still ask you
to stay for a while,
share even this one meal with me.
Even if you are an enemy
who's ordered to **** me,
I would still ask you;
"Have you eaten?
Kumain ka na ba?
Ya comiste?
Ja has menjat?"
And if you say you haven't,
I'll take out the plates, but
I'll be angered.
Because look at the time!
And if you say you already did,
then I'd let you take me out,
my head lowered.
You can waste my time!
Even if you are an enemy
who's bound to hurt me...

Tell the church,
the priest can speak and yap all he wants,
his words aren't the truth, he's another man;
at the bottom of it all, he will never be God.

Tell the church,
the believers are not blind followers,
the church is not perfect, it's an institution;
sometimes the dark at the end of the tunnel.

Tell the church,
the people are not their pets to parade,
we are God's children, not church's slaves!
if worse comes to worst, it's because of the church!

God is absolute, the church is not!
God is loving and freeing, the church is not!
God's love is unconditional, with the church, where's the love?!
And God is divine, kind and perfect, and the church will never be!

So tell the church,
they can make an enemy out of me,
burn me at stake or hang me until I bleed;
at the end of the day, to God I'd still believe!

And tell the church,
they can silence me or bind my arms,
dispose of me, turn my bones to charms;
until the end of the world, all they do is harm!

𝑬𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐. 𝑺𝒐𝒚 𝒚𝒐.
𝑳𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂,
𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒖𝒆𝒈𝒐
𝒚 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒔.

𝑬𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐. 𝑺𝒐𝒚 𝒚𝒐.
¡𝑳𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒂!
𝒀 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂,
𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝑳𝑨 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒂!
𝑳𝒂 ú𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂. 𝑬𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒚 𝒚𝒐.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒚𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒚.
𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔é 𝒅𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔
𝒚 𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒓é 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒐.
𝑫𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓í𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆.
𝑫𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓í𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆.
𝑺𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓í𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓.

𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂
𝒚 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒓 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂.
𝑺𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓í𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓.

𝑸𝒖𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒔.

                            
                              𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐,
                      ­  𝑳𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒂

You hit me good where it hurts,
and you hurt me where it's good.
If you ask me to weep and burn,
I happily and willingly would.

Where your betrayal is,
that's where I long to be.

You want me bad when I want to hide,
and you hide me when it gets bad.
If you ask me to be your victim and bride,
my "yes" would be my quickest nod.

Where your anger resides,
that's where I dream to be beside.

So kiss me softly where it stings,
and kiss me hard where it kills.
If you ask me to die for your sins,
I would even do it on a cross uphill.

Start with my neck,
and then go around my nape...
While you hold me from behind,
your body's like an unsung hero's cape...
Trail your left hand down my chest,
as the right one anticipates on my waist...
While you kiss me in the neck,
where your hands lifted their weight...
Let your hands trail some more,
as your legs join my sides...
My body, you're most welcome to explore,
or even crucify ****** into the night...
Pin down my arms and hands,
stab me with an emotionless face...
And as you end with my feet,
wash them, then lock my knees in place...
And finally, yet again, end with my feet.

Start with my neck, next my nape,
take me from behind,
then hold me from my chest, next my waist,
a little more in the neck again,
take your hands all over,
next are my sides,
then my arms,
then my hands,
then my feet,
my locked knees,
and finally ending with my feet.
This is exactly how you'd **** me,
and at the same time rebirth me.

But times are different now.
You may still have a kingdom,
yet you're here in mine and yours is far away,
you're here looking for food, like some stray.
But the tides have turned now.
Your kind used to be stronger,
yet now I have you wrapped around my finger,
you're there looking for me, who's now bigger.
But this is a newer world now.
You are right here in my kingdom and land,
you're nowhere to be found
if not for the golden touch of my hand.
But this is my world now.
You are right here in my abundant islands
and under my crimson red skies.
You'll be all but buried down to the ground
if not for my songs, lies, jokes and fire.
You're reduced to ashes among the sand
if not for me coming right into your life.

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔
𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒍
𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒊 𝑬𝒃𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒐.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏,
𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒊,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒔
𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒂,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊'𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏
𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊 𝑬𝒃𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒅.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒘𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒉𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒅, 𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐, 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒊 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆.
𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂.

No lo piénses dos veces,
solo dame cien besos.
Traicióname una y otra vez,
fallame con los ojos cerrados.

Adelante, que me lleven.
Solo siéntate ahí y escucha mis gritos.

No des un paso atrás,
o te arrepentirás.
Engañarme una y otra vez,
prométeme nada más.

Adelante, que me arrastren.
Sólo mira cómo crucifican mi cuerpo.

No me hagas daño solo por diez veces,
solo hazlo por cien o millones.
Dececpcionarme una y otra vez,
miénteme y dime que todo está bien.

Adelante, que me maten.
Sólo prométeme que esperarás junto a mi sepulcro.

Penitencia número uno:
intenta no pensar en el color de mi piel ni en mi cuerpo.

Penitencia número dos:
sigue haciendo lo que haces, finge que no quieres mis besos.

Penitencia número tres:
trata de imaginarme como si fuera la luna de tu marea.
Como si no pudieras estar sin mí por la noche.

Penitencia número cuatro:
intenta orar a Dios por mí cuando ya me haya ido para siempre.
Como si pudieras vivir sin mí en este mundo loco.

Penitencia número cinco:
Déjame ir y regálame el camino de salida
si no puedes darme el cielo.

Seis, nunca vuelvas a mi país.

Siete, nunca cierres los ojos cuando empiezo a salir con alguien.

Ocho, nunca apagues las luces e imagínate en tu cuarto.

Nueve, no me escuches cuando digo "vuelve".

Diez, ni siquiera pienses más en mí.

What of languages, if you only need a few words to ask how a friend is today?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to ask a vendor how much their goods are?

What use are the multiple languages you speak, when you can't use a single one of them to say what you feel?

What about the new language you taught me, if you only speak to me when I do? What good is it, if I were to become mute?

So what of languages, if you can't use them to ask me how I am today?

So what of your dialects, if I couldn't ask you how much your attention is,
or if I could even buy it?

So what use are the multiple languages we speak, if we can't use a single word, a sentence, not a single language to say what we feel?

What about the new language you taught me? Do we let it die or make new jokes?
How good it will be, if they become true?

𝑰 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒚, 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒅,
𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑰 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔...
𝑶𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒙
𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆...

𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆
𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆?
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓
𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒉?
𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒚𝒎𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅
𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒓?
𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒖𝒎
𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕?
𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏
𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔?
𝑩𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆,
𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒕?
𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅
𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓?
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒍,
𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.

𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅'𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆, 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅,
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔...
𝑶𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆
𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉...

I want him to be smart and funny,
so I can forget curses and bury older jokes
with the music of our laughters.
I want him to be happy, I'll make him happy,
so we can drown our worries and sorrows
when we're in each other's company.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him faithful.
I want him to take care of me better,
I don't mind a little cold here and there,
as long as we know that our home
is full of warmth and it's ours alone.
I want him kind too, and warm,
so I can forget for a while the world is cruel
when I'm in the safety of his arms.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him gentle.
I want him to hold me tighter than ever,
I don't mind storms every now and then,
as long as we know we are each other's
own sanctuary, safe space and shelter.
I want him loyal and raw as I am,
so we can rest easy and sleep at night
knowing we're the same soul, we are one.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him all to myself and mine alone.

What of languages, if you only need one or two words to say you're sorry?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to tell me why you think I deserved whatever **** you've put me in?

What use are the multiple languages you speak, when you can't use a single one of them to justify what you did?

What about the new language you taught me, is it even ours to begin with?
What good is it, if I'm now gagged, silenced and mute?

So what of languages, if you are to be exiled soon, with your tongue tied too?

So what of my dialects, if I couldn't even ask myself to forgive and forget, to let it go and give it a rest?

So what use are the multiple languages we speak, if we can't use a single word, a sentence, not a single language to say
the multitudes of feelings we feel?

What about the new language you taught me? I wanna write these words in scripts, only to light them in a fire.
How good will it be, if I were to be the bad guy this time?

Estás a mi merced.
Hasta que yo lo diga,
nunca serás libre.
Yo no ruego
pero tu eres el que esta rogando.
Soy la reina de la isla del fuego,
este es mi juego y tu solo estas jugando.
Eres mi esclavo ahora.
hasta que escribo
Mi peor y último poema.

He cruzado los mares,
mientras cargaba mi propia cruz pesada.
He escalado los valles,
mientras cargo mis propias montañas.
Todo esto y más,
dudo que puedas hacerlo por tu cuenta.
Y es por eso que tú y yo somos diferentes.
No puedes ganar una guerra,
sin ser tu propio paraíso e isla.
No se puede saborear la victoria
sin lamer los terrenos del Gólgota.
Todo esto y más,
seguro de que no lo sabrías si no te lo dijera.
Y es por eso que tú y yo no somos iguales.
He surcado mares de fuego,
mis dientes salieron más fuertes
que cien coronas.
He cavado mi propia tumba,
y regresé más poderosa
que mil mesías.
Y por eso soy reina, una eterna.
Y por qué eres sólo un hombre, un mortal.

They say you must suffer
before you become free
You must be a prisoner
before you can flee

But I beg to differ...
Before you came I didn't know glee.
I was held captive by land and earth
before I became as wild as the sea

And you wouldn't agree either...
Before me, you've never known grace.
You were trapped by the fear of danger
until you're blessed by the sight of my face

You could try but you won't find better...
After me, everyone else is just a phase.
I was chained by the fear of another lover
but you blessed me with hope I can't erase

Now we are swinging like olive branches,
dancing and swaying like palm trees,
I don't want to take any chances
but with you I'd take a thousand risks.

Now we are singing like lovebirds
flying across a meadow in a summer light,
I don't want to fall in love again
but for you I'd jump headfirst and deep dive.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒔𝒆ñ𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒌𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔,
𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒂, 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒔, 𝒌𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔,
𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒌𝒐 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒐𝒕.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒌𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒂,
𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒛𝒂.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒐.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒎𝒊 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔
𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓.
𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒏
𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈.
𝑮𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝒌𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒔,
𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒌𝒂𝒚𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒎á𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆,
𝒆𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒐.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔
𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒎á𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓.
𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒂
𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈.
𝑮𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂'𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒎𝒊 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔,
𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏, ¡𝒇𝒖𝒊 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒛𝒂𝒅𝒂!
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒐.
𝒀𝒂 𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊ó𝒏.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏, 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒃𝒊𝒈𝒚𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒐 𝒂𝒌𝒐...
𝑷𝒂𝒈𝒌𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒌𝒐 𝒏𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒈
𝑷𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒐𝒕, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒐, 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒈...
𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒊 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒔 𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔...
𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒌𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔 𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒂,
𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒔, 𝒌𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔...
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒐, 𝒔𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒌𝒂𝒔.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒂𝒏, 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒌𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒏,
𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒂𝒏, 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒂𝒏...