As winged flowers
Six butterflies
Kiss hurriedly
The pistils
And my soul with delirium
Precise in its eyes the eyewash
To refresh
The great anxiety
That has produced me
Your incandescent lies.
My stomach was burned by the bitter
That I drank of a single blow
As if were a tuareg
To the riverside of an oasis
And my soul began to turn pale
For the disastrous bitterness
With the one that you embarrassed me.
As winged flowers
Six butterflies
Kiss hurriedly
The pistils.
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