On the stairs,
Of the Altar,
I only see one Hope,
Rising up,
To an unmoving Wheel;

Behold,
Statues smile,
At the unfaithful Clown,

For his grinning is not enough,
To shake the dust off his nose;

Behold,
Six candles illuminate
The Devotion,
Everyone wishes,
To get,

And Silence pronounces a yellow whisper,
To open up devotees' eyes,
And to make them look after
Their strongest science;

Meanwhile,
I'm still sit right here,
And enjoying the company,
Of a purple breeze.

Have I nailed,
The Heart of Lust,
In which your eyes glow,
Like a gem
On a rock?

Have I crucified,
My reckless flesh,
In order to attain your smile,
And to make your fame,
Dance on square?

Neither the wind,
Nor the sand
Are able to harsh,
Such a big chance,

In which Fortune sings her Canto,
To awake future Saints;

However,
Let's pretend you know not me;
Let's assume you want profits only;
Let's believe you just need a fire within;

For Desire opens up her Mysteries,
To the Ones who are about to shine.

Now,

My wish is
To become the Wind,

For
On this flesh of mine,
A shadow dancer arises,
To be such a purge
For my eyes;

I only feel Thirst
For the Purest and the Naked,
For my body doesn't
Reclaim
The wisdom,
Of any new religion;

A Maid aspires to be a Kore;
A Kore aspires to be a Mother;
A Mother aspires to be the World;

Even the slightest tardiness
Demands
To be aware of by,

As well as a single coin
Craves
To be deep-felt within;

There isn't any materialistic meaning,
Except the one that,
Everyone puts on,

For the Circle turns around,
To let the sun arise,
To make any Conscience waking up.

Let my body swim,
Across the white lake,
Whereas the waters smile,
And the fish spoil themselves!

Let my soul be unveiled,
By the Earth's dance,
And the trees' mess!

For a nymph cannot be seduced,
By a poet's unworthiness,

So no song will be performed,
Until the sky becomes red,
And the air knocks out my shame!

Standing on an endless- motion field;

I abide the hour,
In which the Old Mother will
Break free,
From her melancholy;

How many tears has she cried,
While seeing her children,
Running blind,
Through the Forest,
Of the Wild!

How many kisses has she spread,
For new heroes to come,
While the old ones remain slothful,
And lack all kind,
Of warlike honor!

Patience is a lullaby,
Among white souls,

In which my time holds every minute,
To disappear among blue roses,

For everyday,
A new life is born,
To take shape,
In everyone's legs.

May the dance keep moving,
For endless pleasure flows,
In the gain of Wisdom!

On a smiling air's caress,
Sweaty bodies display their love,

And the song they perform is,
The hymn to a Goddess,
Giving birth,
On their skins,

May Selfishness not interfere,
In such process of being shaped;

May Laugh smooth,
Such a mystery of Intimacy,

For Human Spirit gets,
Its true appearance when,
It builds a Temple,
In a four-wall bedroom;

So may the Instinct awake,
In the ritual
Of a red shade!

Let the mystery dance,
At the top of your breast!

Whereas the angels roar,
And the cross leans on your soul!

Let the moon awake,
On you head!

Whereas your eyes glow,
And your skin shapes your sword!

Even the slightest needle would
Go across your fingers,
And write a prophecy,
On the walls of your bedroom,

In which no disciple will blaspheme,
To the storm;

May Temptation be your servant when,
Every day becomes red;

May your tears be your salvation when,
Every song gets,
Your priesthood's grace,

For a caress cannot be revealed,
If it does not cleanse,
The wind's dirt!