Sometimes I would like to lie myself
And find out a mistake
Or acquire the truculent power
To say: Open Sesame
And open her imperfection
For don't believe that her beauty
Is superior than all knowledge,
Then I'll be the most arid
Of critic of her life
If time were suddenly
And her face become gray
And beauty let her body
I'll destroy with my commentaries
That remains,
But it seems impossible that happen
Because her beauty is enough
And her grace never seen
But I'm afraid that she’s a monster
Surrounded by a graceful body
Or a abyss’s spirit
Transformed in perfect feminine
I don't know what I want
If destroy her with my critics
Or build her with my praises
Because the worst of all this
Is that I felt in love with her
And when I want severely critic her
I just success giving her praises
Even in realty she is:
The only one and true creator
Of the light that surround my darkness.
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