Qué quieres que te diga, Danaë?
Que mis labios se deshacen en suspiros?
Que no me alcanza el aire por bañarte en cumplidos?
...
You lay your thirsty eyes upon pray, Danaë,
And mine them boys for the gold of their attention.
You're up high in your tower of doubt, Danaë,
And yet you're both the captive and the captor.
You bathe in their raining gold, Danaë,
With your malice gilded in good intentions.
But the mines run dry, Danaë,
And aureate satisfaction comes from within.
That's what I learned from you, Danaë,
One's not content until content with one's self one's been.
And yet it's easy, Danaë,
For both you and I carry eternity inside.
We've been blinded by raining gold that soothes our skin;
But we shall see once our tears have all been cried.