Not even your voice, recorded in sounds of piano,
not even your body, opened in nudity,
can chase my will, of throwing you, in the womb of oblivion.

Not even lines, beautifully chosen,
can bring to me, the sweet nectar, cure of the pain.

And I abandon the dreams, I pulled out from you,
and I walk above my own waters, even if I'm to drown,
under my own deck.

You don't measure sadness in agonizing expressions,
it lives, staining smiles,
with depressed and hideous faces,
squeezing from life, too many years.

Not even sadness, you leave me to drink,
because I’m empty, as a coffin without an occupant,
I’m just planks.

You’ve gone far, dragging my soft and pathetic pieces,
filled up with soldiers of despair.

I didn’t even know the crying,
even it, it has flown , following the gully of your steps,
troubled, it has thrown itself, out of my eyes,
so I won’t ever feel it,
so I won’t ever touch it.

Even I,I have nothing left from myself.