The Dark Messiah, I bring you
the Sun on a silver plater
of conscience, hungry for hope.
I give you back the tenderness,
fertility and freedom
that you constantly pursue.

I am not the same word
that escaped from your lips.
I do not associate myself
with the thought that wounds
the thin skin of the mind.

The Dark Messiah, take off
these shackles from yourself,
throw off the thorny shadow
from your back.
I will dance so that you will hear
about my existence.

I will fall in love with you
so much that all people will doubt
the proximity of heaven.
Distracted, enslaved by a glass dream,
I delight in the journey
of your hands on the map
of my body.

The Dark Messiah, I have found enough
truth in myself to resurrect
the overpopulated lie.