Burning fire or infinite abyss,
conflicting, powerful, dominant.
The Poets speak of elevation,
but I wonder, I who lived it,
what feeling did they talk about?
Where are the tears, the laments,
the absolute suffering that brings with it
this degenerate and totalizing affection
That overcomes and absorbs everything?
The shadow of feeling is missing, that's what.
A heart that wants another for itself,
a person who is not enough for themselves,
life that bends, existence that blurs,
and the only question to ask is, "Why,
why must all this be so?"
And I torment myself, sinking into conflict,
I drown myself in a sea of doubt
And wind-blown questions,
Whose answers, ghosts, perhaps do not exist,
Maybe they don't really concern me.