Open the windows of your house
through which the wind would never enter.
And then you'll feel on fire
more than in your own home.

Aspirate the smell of the infinity:
pale sky and blinding lights.
Nothing is so restricted,
except your great lovers.

Paint in red to be able to love me.
Paint in yellow to be able to cheer me.
But don't paint in blue. Blue makes me unhappy,
because it's not lovely (like a learner).

Turn on the fire
able to burn this fiction.
Now happiness, now satisfaction;
everything by which I relief.

Turn off the esteem
unable to have you.
And I'm glad to know
that I still know you.