I am no longer your humble servant
and you are not, anymore, the queen
your wisely founded empire has fallen
before my eyes with a cruel scene

i hung a picture on the wall
whose memories kept me in terror
perhaps they should never have happened at all
only then i could have avoided my downfall

i gaze at the picture on the wall
it reflected horror like a shiny mirror
and the inevitables that i constantly recall
in order to hurt my trembling chest after all

i have someone as the muse
whom i always want to amuse
and never intend to refuse
in order not to see her blues

men find the beauty
then want it to decrease
or bury it in eternity
where it begins to decease

men see the riddle
and show no act of solving
they try to escape it with a giggle
that only causes another riddle

i fear, mostly
though i welcome you time to time.
i feel, unceasingly
and yet i wish the contrary.

I am the silly little boy
in between of feelings
and you are the source
of all these unendings