Now I look to my last sundown,
Moon and Hesperus on the blue they loom,
Once again my thoughts are dominated by my core
And I don't want to love her anymore!

It's my life's obsession which denies to be exorcised,
Compulsion of my senses which brought to me this madness
of my mind and of my perception, indeed,
This passion which is really a soul illness,
But I hope that in my grave she will follow me no more
'cause refuge I wish to find in eternal forgetfulness
And not in the least, to be only an extension
For the life which seems to me so barren without love,
Perfect psychoanalysis with null remission,
Medicine, but with an overdosed poison,
Death is an undeniable remedy
For the one which has been just disgusted by his life.

But to believe that she will share my feelings
It was so childish for my part, a foolish fantasy,
Because pure love is only a myth, now I see,
And to earn her love
I should to erase all my life until now,
To wash-up all my past and one cerebral hemisphere,
To heal my wounds, to bend my spinal cord
And in the end to use, probably, the same easily pill.