When it finds a match,
the fire sends its regards
for the source of its warmth.

Where heat  
and breast floats gold,
I see the old sky new.

Why a mold
that charms cats and brothers
as the offender of kings.

What's more,
it knows
the Tarantula D'amour.

We all burn slow,
even if we die young;
so be it.

Well, let's live
today if not and especially
tomorrow doesn't exist.